


Bound In Chains

by BeckyLClose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandonment, Anger, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Big Brother Dean, Big Brother Sam, Blood and Torture, Body Worship, Child Abandonment, Childbirth, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Winchester and Feelings, Demons, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holy Water, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Loving Crowley, Memories, Mind Reading, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Poker, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Protective Crowley, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Protectiveness, Psychological Torture, References to Lord of the Rings, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sass, Sassy Crowley, Shameless Smut, Star Wars References, Tears, Telepathy, Threat to reader, Torture, Unplanned Pregnancy, demonic, scotch, whisky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3584670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckyLClose/pseuds/BeckyLClose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abandoned by her family in a freezing woodland as a small child, our reader runs into John, Sam and Dean Winchester with a very special ability, telepathy. Upon discovering her mind reading talent, John trains her impeccably to aid on hunts from the safety of a motel room. After Johns death, Sam, Dean and the reader ride round from crummy motel rooms and back alley parking lots until fate brings them to the men of letters bunker, which they now call home. Life is amazing in the bunker - but our reader is hiding pent up angst from her biological family abandoning her all those years ago. She silently seeks revenge on the people who left her to die in the cold. She summons a crossroads demon - demanding to seal such a evil deal with the king of hell - offering not her soul but her mind as payment. Crowley is totally intrigued by her - how she thinks, feels and how she can read him like a book. Like a highly charged magnet and metal ball, her world starts shifting, entangling herself with the King of Hell until its too late to turn back.</p><p>Her ability although useful comes with lethal side effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet The Family

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this piece for quite a while. I would love to hear feedback if possible! :)
> 
> I have a page for my writing and fan fictions on facebook, It's updated daily with new chapters, story ideas and sneak peaks. Be the first to read new chapters of my work. :)
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/BLClose
> 
> Enjoy Bound In Chains!

December 18th 1992

Many people have said that you need to let go of your past to begin writing your future, past memories can never be erased but they can be soothed with love and unity. The same love and unity I found when I quite literally bumped into my new family.

I was labelled a monster, the work of Satan himself. My biological mother often referred to me as a freak; uttering the single word then willingly ignored me. Pushing me aside at the dinner table, forcing me to eat alone; white paper plate in hand and a few scraps of whatever was left over. My two sisters poked fun, giggling, chanting “Freak” whenever mother and father were out of earshot, I did my best to stand my ground, cupping my palms over my tiny ears to block out the deafening noise that was my “Inner Ear” as I liked to call it. I know now that my abilities weren’t my fault, it was just one of them things that happened y’know how some people are born with extra limbs, my telepathy was no different. I just had an extra ear on the inside.

My ability to read minds only made itself present just after my third birthday. I thought it was normal to hear mother without her lips moving, slandering my father for lack of money or accusing him of bedding the next door neighbour; which didn’t at all make sense to me.

It was only at one fateful dinner time that everything fell to pieces. The whole family was sat around a luxurious ebony dinner table, cream place mats and silver knives and forks divided into columns; all of us wearing some sort of festive dress. The pig of a man that was my father, shovelled down spoonful’s of mash potatoes, chicken and gravy; The creamed potato travelling down to his shirt in blobs and blotches only for him to grumble and swipe it up with his index finger. His mind talking of a busty woman with long satin legs and flowing blonde hair - I uttered her name, each of their eyes turned, darkened and vulture like.

Thus ensued my abandonment and exile.

I don’t remember much about it as my head was covered in a grey potatosack and I was placed into the back of father’s car; the sinister giggling of my sisters in the background as mother palmed their mouths to keep them quiet. With the turn of a key a ticking, tractor like engine sprung to life and the sea sickening wobbling started, bumping, jolting, tossed from side to side until after a while it stopped and the anxiety inducing sound of heavy boots wading through snow yanked me from the car and placed me delicately on the ground. 

I had struggled the bag from my face as the sound of the car left and I was greeted by a deathly silence and bitter cold. My eyes welling with crystalized tears at the terrifying thought of being alone; alone for reasons I did not understand – Where was mother? – Why did father leave me behind? – And so I sobbed into my festive dress, picking up the white frills to dab my eyes and sniffle into. My toes freezing to the very bone as already existing snow pooled at my ankles.

I literally stumbled across the Winchesters; trekking through thick woodland after hearing loud shouting within my tiny skull, a list of expletives, vulgar words directed toward their father.

It was a bit of a shock when a little girl ambled through the bushes; thorns tearing clothes and low branches sticking into my shivering body.

Both brothers were barely teenagers when I found them within the forest with their gruff looking father, John. All three of them were leaning intently into the trunk of a black and chrome car, clicks, snaps and scrapes all coming from John’s direction. Only turning when the faint crunch of snow beneath pressure sounded. John held a shotgun within his rough palms, aiming directly at my forehead when he turned, his finger sliding up and down the trigger.

With a raised eyebrow and a tick of his lower jaw, John lifted his weapon from my innocent whimpering form, tears rolling down my cheeks although I was unable to feel them against my frozen skin. Sam and Dean tore glances over their shoulders, equal silent gasps escaping their throats. Whispered mutterings between brothers as their eyes took in every detail of my winter dress and the pale blue skin that covered my frame.

“Dad, that’s a…” The eldest brother spoke.

“A little girl..” John whispered “What you doing all the way out here, sweetie?”

The tall dark haired man’s mind was questioning my sudden appearance, my origin, where my parents were, if I was lost. If I didn’t know any better he was panicking at the sudden thought of taking another child into his care, his hot breath rising into the freezing air as he made his split second decision.

My teeth chattered, skin prickling with goose bumps, shaking violently. Before I knew it the youngest brother had wrapped a yellow and brown blanket round my form and John had picked me up; his large hands snaking under my arms, keeping my tiny frozen body close to his chest. There was a long pause, sighs exchanged and frustrated grumbles before he tore his aged features down to his son’s

“Pack up boys – I’m calling off the hunt.”

\-------------------------------

 

May 1st 2014 – Present Day.

Just a normal morning, the same ‘happy go lucky’ routine buzzing through the pleasantly calm air within the bunker. The homely scents of manly deodorant, coffee and left over sweet pie crust. 

Life in this moment was wonderful, the best it had been in a long time since living with the Winchester brothers. Sure we all had our ups and downs, some more severe than others; Disagreements of cases, brotherly fallouts with enough ‘bitchfaces’ to permanently regret staring either of them in the eyes, drunken brawls in local bars that usually meant all three of us were banned from certain ‘after hunt celebrations venues’.

Yeah – Life was good.

 

“Good Morning, todays forecast calls for blue skies.” 

Said the muffled man over the old, silver radio with the giant antennae, the murmured voice soon dissolved into a repeated piano chord and clapping hands, only then was the tune clear enough to identify. 

Mr Blue Sky – ELO

A perfect, catchy song for the morning in the garage, sun beaming through the tiny windows, catching on the flawless paintwork of the 1967 black and chrome Impala and the sweat covered man beneath her; tapping his oiled fingers against her undercarriage, his tight chest heaving and he copied the song with a slightly out of tune hum.

I sat with my knees bought up to my chest on an old rickety deck chair, bouncing my head to the satisfying song, humming along with my adoptive brother, Dean.

A light chuckle escaping my lungs at his poor attempt to sing along, it was adorable yet slightly grating. 

“Y’know, you never could sing.”

“Eh!” Came his deep, raspy voice from under the Impala, the rolling of tiny wheels against concrete as he pushed his, sweating, heated body from under the car, a disgruntled look plastering his pretty boy features.

I stood with a smirk, stretching out my arms, cracking my shoulders and twisting my legs, sighs of pure relief from sitting in the cramped chair.

“Oh you have such a hard job.” He poked playfully as he watched me stretch my stiff limbs, waiting on me to deliver a tool.

I rolled my eyes, wandering over to a grey rolled out mat, a selection of tools, wrenches, hammers and plyers. “You’re right, I have the hardest job – Perfecting that delectably, sweet pie crust just to your ridiculously high standards.”

Dean’s lips pouted, tipping his head to the side as he thought for a split second. “Not gonna argue with that.” I dibbed my body down to the various tools, picking up a wrench only to toss it between my fingers. I strolled over to the eldest Winchester, delivering the wrench to his rough, covered palm. 

He halted from rolling back underneath the car, his red lips jutting out as he thought about the ingredients of his home made pie. I giggled lowly hearing his pleading thoughts within my mind, his mouth watering to the thought of apple and cinnamon.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I confirmed confidently

His green eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, a smile tugging into his freckled cheeks. “Damn, I love you Y/N.”

I laughed whole heartedly, pacing toward the door that lead into the mansion styled bunker, calling from the hallway. “I love you too big brother!”

 

Sun is shining in the sky, there ain’t a cloud in sight. It’s stopped rainin’ Everybody’s in a play and don’t you know it’s a beautiful new day.

 

My step was more of a prancing jog through the labyrinth that was the bunker. Impressive flecked marbled walls encircled the building, echoes of two pairs of feet rang out through the mass of corridors and stone steps. The bunker was essentially an impenetrable fort to any supernatural being, with devils traps here there and everywhere, salt encrusted doors and enough holy water in the pantry to literally drown a demon. Yeah no-one was getting in or out.

The second pair of feet were getting closer as I entered the large kitchen, a pre-filled bottle of ice cold water on the counter and a hefty plastic sports cup, a few scoops of strawberry powder in the bottom. I rolled my eyes once again a smile entering my lips. “Oh Sam.” I breathed reaching for the fridge door to take out the semi skimmed milk. Just a few seconds later the creamy, bubbly liquid in the plastic cup foamed and with that I twisted the bulky lid onto it just as a large palm took my shoulder in its grasp.

“You didn’t have to do that Y/N.” Came Sam’s warm, heartfelt voice. The smile that was playing on my lips turned into a chesty chuckle as the giant Winchester gently applied pressure to my body, turning me to face his muscular form. He stood some feet away, wearing his usual morning get up, blue vest and navy shorts. He was going for a run; his mind frantic with childish excitement.

“Sometimes you boys need taking care of.” I laced my fingers around the plastic pinkish cup, pushing it toward his chest. “Enjoy your run.” He breathed a silky laugh, taking the protein shake from my grasp. The little voice inside his head speaking as a sweet smile ran into his lips. “I will, thank you.” He thought intentionally for me to hear it.

Running down the avenue, see how the sun shines brightly, in the city on the streets where once was pity, Mr blue sky is living here today was.

The rest of the day was routine, the sweet pastry for Dean’s bramley apple and cinnamon pie came on nicely, a slightly dry yet sticky consistency, sprinkled with a dusting of sugar, zig zags of maple syrup before baking.

I snapped my hand over an old fashioned timer, a ticking copper clock that relaxed my senses with its rhythm. 

The whole bunker smelt of sweet apples and Christmas seasonings as I worked at the elongated table that stretched nearly the whole place, my being utterly surrounded by books, leather, paper, hard. Sam’s bright laptop to the side of me, scrunched up notes, pens scattered everywhere, ink covered A4 pieces of paper, the twitching of sore fingers and clicking of tired pinkies.

It wasn’t long after that Sam returned from his run, sweat pouring from his heavily muscled body as he made a B line for the bathroom before his big brother that was also covered in sweat and dirty engine oil.

“Sammy! – Don’t use all the hot water some of us are covered in brake dust!”

“Yeah yeah yeah!”

The voice in Sam’s head was giggling like a little school boy, finally he had the upper hand on his brother. I chuckled which sparked Dean’s attention, knowing I had heard something rattling around his little brothers head.

“What did he think.” His tone was low, his piercing as he pointed down the hallway to the bathroom. I pushed several books away from myself continuing to giggle as I took in Dean’s filthy features. “Call it pay back.”

“Pay back?”

“Yeah from a few weeks ago – The vampire hunt which left Sam face down in blood but you snagged the bathroom first.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Hey you with the pretty face, welcome to the human race. A celebration, Mr blue skies up there waitin’ and today is the day we’re waited for.

It was about two hours later that both brothers had calmed down, cleaned off and had started helping me with research of this week’s case; well Sam helped me while Dean tucked into half of his freshly baked pie. The younger Winchester wore his blue plaid PJ bottoms and a grey shirt, Dean wore practically the same although his plaid had little red flecks and stripes.

Sam’s soft fingers flipped through pages of lore, his tongue pressed between his lips as he concentrated intensely. My eyes were trained on the PC screen, scrolling through recent newspaper clippings and reports.

“I don’t get it, if it’s a vampire why wouldn’t it be ‘allergic to dead-mans blood.” I asked curiously. My hands flying into my short hair, curling around clumps of the bulls fluff.

“It would have to be an Alpha.” Sam and I slowly rotated our heads, eyes fusing together at the sudden realisation. 

“Damn! – Of course!”

“Shit!”

“Talk about us being the brains of the operation.”

A deep raspy voice suddenly echoed from the living room. 

“Will you two stop nerding out on a case?!”

“No!” Sam and I shouted together as we buried our faces back into the piles of dusted books.

 

The loud buzzing from the copper alarm clock noisily rung into my ears, startling Sam and I back into reality. My hand flopped over the table, wandering to find the source of the ear splitting noise while I finished up the last sentence of research. It stopped as I slammed my palm down on the trigger, pulling myself up from the table with heavy eyes and a craving for utter rest.

The sound of the ringing clock usually meant one thing, and one thing only.

“What movie did you pick for tonight?” Sam asked as he cleaned up the used and scribbled bits of paper, hugging them to his chest as I protested to the bright light above me that greeted my exhausted eyes.

“Uh – Star wars I think, classic Harrison Ford.”

Sam perked up with a smile as he grabbed a large bottle of coke from the kitchen and returned to the table. 

“You got something for older men?” He joked, patting my back and walking with me toward the plush living room. 

“Oh yeah – that’s why I keep bugging Dean every Christmas to take me to see Santa in the mall, anything to sit on an older mans lap.”

Sam gave a slightly disgusted snigger at my light sarcasm, his brow and cheeks cringing.

“Too much information.”

“You asked.”

Hey there Mr blue sky, were so pleased to be with you, look around see what you do, everyone smiles at you.

 

The night came to a close with the three of us huddled together on one of the squishy couches, Dean to my left and Sam to my right, snuggled up beneath blankets, surrounded with toffee popcorn, a jar of crunchy peanut butter and bars of chocolate, bottles of coke and Dr pepper, watching Star wars as I stared with piercing eyes toward Harrison Ford, bit of a dick but – yeah Sam was right, I did have a thing for older men.

It was so warm to be flushed against both brothers forms, this was my safe place, my comfort zone. It didn’t surprise me when I had noticed Sam had fallen asleep, his head propped up against my shoulder, quiet snores elicting from his throat, his hair danced elegantly across my shirt and neck – I yawned, long and satisfying, a little high pitched mewl as my mouth close and Dean pushed himself closer to me, lifting his arm up and around my shoulders; flicking his brothers long hair away from my neck. 

“Somehow it always ends this way.” He muttered as his palm pressed against my temple, pushing my skull into his warm, toned chest. I nuzzled him, batting my heavy eyelids as the land of dreams threatened to overtake my body. Dean wove his fingers into my short hair, twirling the strands as to comfort, his cheek pushing into the top of my head as he too closed his eyes; the movie still playing in the background as we were tempted into the whispers of slumber.

Yeah, Life is good.

 

Please. Turn. Me. Over.


	2. Vampire Hunt

Snow had started to fall; thick, intricate flakes floating down to earth outside the Impala. The crinkle of John’s ancient brown leather jacket was a promise of warmth, the association as strong as his fierce fatherly instinct that kicked in from the get go. The gruff man breathed with panic, huddling another thick blanket around my tiny body that was seated in the back of the Impala, next to his two sons, Sam and Dean Winchester.

“Tuck her in, Dean.” He ordered rather softly. John pulled his body from the back of the Impala and entered the driver’s seat, his leather jacket rubbing satisfyingly against the fixed front seat.

The young and freckle faced Dean stared toward me nervously, like I was carrying some sort of terrible, fatal plague. His tender, soft palm came up to the level of his face, he gave a small blushing wave. 

I curled the blankets around my shivering body, fiddling with the fabric until I could slip my tiny hand out through a crack, I copied his movements. He gave a brief smile; the freckles covering his cheeks merging momentarily.

“My names Dean.” He pointed toward his younger brother the other side of me, Sam eyeing me up and down like I was some extra-terrestrial being that had just snapped into reality from another world.

“That’s Sam – We’re brothers.” My eyes followed Dean’s pointing finger toward the other boy next to me, my orbs coming into contact with Sam’s. The same hand that snaked out of the blankets gave another subtle wave toward the second brother.

“Do you talk?” Dean asked more confidently now, his childish face lifting with a grin. 

I nodded a few times before Dean interrupted again, moving his body closer to mine as to share his body heat noticing my quaking. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N” I whispered.

 

\-------------------------

May 2nd 2014

My eyes flashed open suddenly from my flash backed dream, my head rising and falling, a radiating heat pulsing through my ear and cheek, the beautiful, homely scent of cheap aftershave and deodorant filling my senses. The deep breathing that calmed my soul and a warm presence at my lower stomach gave my mind only one answer.

We fell asleep on the couch again.

It was difficult to tear myself away from the warmth of Dean Winchester, the words ‘just ten more minutes’ on the tip of my tongue.

It was amazing how an average height woman, a six foot four giant and a six foot two hunter actually fit on a tree seat couch but we did. Dean lay in a sitting position with his feet balancing on the coffee table, Sam with his long legs dangling over the side of the couch and his head resting ever so lightly against my stomach, then that left me to curl up into a ball with that space the brothers gave me.

Today was Sam’s 31st birthday, from the skinny, slightly scrawny little boy who gave a timid smile in the back of the Impala, to the six foot four giant of a man that outweighed both Dean and I in muscle mass. It was a hell of a change from the first initial meeting in the freezing forest. His cute boyish features morphed slowly in to a fully grown – over grown – man; a defined jawline, strong cheek bones and rough stubble sat perfectly on his face.

\------------

I nuzzled Dean’s chest once more before picking up messy bed head up carefully trying not to disturbed the other sleeping beauty resting against my stomach. With a quick nudge to his side Dean’s eyes quickly slid open sleepily, his chest rising with a sharp intake of breath, low grunts and grumbles escaped his red lips. 

“We all fell asleep on the couch again huh?” He whispered groggily, his piercing eyes turning down to me and the scruffy bedhead that had made itself present. I nodded “I don’t know why we have separate bedrooms in all honesty.” He chuckled lowly to my comment, the back of his hair ruffling as he took in his little brothers form; Sam’s temple rising and falling with my soft breathing. “Can you move without waking sleeping beauty?”

I shrugged lightly “Can try – Grab a pillow.”

The next sequence of movements went a little like this; Dean shimmied out from the couch, stretching and pulling his stiff bowed legs back into place, cracking his knuckles while I carefully lifted Sam’s heavy head from my stomach as Dean readied a fluffed up pillow to slide between us.

Our precision was almost medical; tongues escaping mouths with the intense concentration, licking of chapped lips and shaking extremities as the puffy pillow was slotted into place and finally jumped up from the couch, glancing down at the giant Winchester that literally took over the entire couch. 

“Close one.” I murmured softly

“Yeah.” Dean patted his brow, turning his morning features down to me. “He could do with a few extra hours before the hunt – you still up for tonight?”

What Dean was referring to was the little surprise night out to celebrate Sam’s birthday, something that would probably end in all three of us becoming intoxicated and doing something stupid – perhaps this year we could make a new world record on the amount of bars we got banned from.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

 

\--------

 

The morning carried on as usual. Dean and I sat in somewhat silence at the breakfast table, one huge plate with enough toast to feed a family of eight stacked up high, the case notes from the night before in front of my face as I bit into my third slice of buttery goodness, my eyes never leaving the scribbly piece of paper. Dean sat opposite me, a slice of toast hanging out of his mouth as he professionally cleaned a heavy machete blade, sharpening it as he went. 

He deep muffled voice backfiring into the slice of toast as he attempted to talk with his mouth full; unable to remove the item from between his white teeth. I rolled my eyes, hearing his frustrated thoughts when I simply gave him a shrug and a shake to my head. 

With a quick yank, I pulled the toast slice from his lips, allowing him to talk. 

“You bugging or coming with for this hunt?” He asked with a brief intake of breath.

‘Bugging’ was a term the brothers had used for a few years. After figuring out I was more brains than brawn, Dean had suggested that I stay behind for the actual hunt but be bugged with ear pieces so I could relay important information and get to use my long range telepathy skills; that was coming along in leaps and bounds.

“Bugging.” I confirmed. “I’d be more useful here – besides Mr Ford ain’t gonna watch himself.”

Dean chuckled, nodding to my wishes. With a snap and a clank the blade he had been sharpening made its way onto the table, and the now cold toast I held in my hand found its way back into his mouth.

“I like you better with your mouth full.” I commented as Dean took the toast between his index finger and thumb, pulling it from his lips, chewing the bite he had torn off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a disbelieving expression upon his face.

I shrugged, offering a brief smile at the funny face he pulled. “That I like you better when you’re quiet?”

“Smart-ass.”

“Right back at you.”

\--------------

 

“I’ve calibrated the ear pieces to connect to your cell phone GPS signals – Not only will I know where you are in need to send an ambulance but I’ll be able to hear you at all times.” I said wrapping the extensive wire around my shoulders that was connected to Sam’s silver laptop, the tiny ear piece fitting snug within my ear.

There was a ruffle, some scratching on the other end as Dean played about with the foreign object within his ear; the sound of padded palms against the wheel of the rolling Impala.

“Dean, stop messing with your damn piece.” I commented, rolling my eyes as I tracked their whereabouts through Sam’s computer, stirring a freshly brewed coffee that was at my disposal. 

A hearty laugh soothed my left ear as Sam’s voice reverberated into the tiny microphone imbedded in his jacket.

“I can’t help it!” Buzzed into my right ear; the disgruntled voice of Dean.

“Worry less about the piece and more about the potential Alpha vampire.”

“I’ll take care of it Y/N.” Sam’s voice rang into my left ear.

I nodded to myself, bringing the boiling brew up to my lips. “Radio back when you’re at the coordinates, I’ll guide you both through the safest route and try to get a latch on to some of the bloodsuckers - Hans out.”

 

\---------------

 

With my feet crossed, resting on the table, my fourth mug of coffee in my hand and a re-run of Star Wars playing through Sam’s laptop it was hard to believe I was a vital part of the Winchesters case.

“Y/N, we’re at the coordinates.” Came the slightly too loud, deep voice within my right ear. Even so physical far away from Dean I could still read his thoughts; his mind fluttering with confusion over the new microphone placement, holding his jacket up to his lips as he spoke.

I jumped slamming my empty mug onto the table, pausing my movie and shuffling my chair forward, I winced at the crackling sound flowing through my brain.

“Dean, do you remember what I said to you this morning?” I paused, rubbing the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes tightly as the shock waving noise dissipated. “Just, please tell me you’ve got some toast nearby.”

A throaty laugh buzzed into my left ear; the sound of the giant’s laughter put a curved smile onto my wincing features. A conversation sparking between both brothers.

“Dude, you’re not supposed to bring your jacket up to your face.”

“How am I supposed to know?! – The old arrangement was better.”

“She designed it so we could act casual.”

“I can’t act casual with this damn thing in my ear!”

I sighed heavily, ducking my head down until my forehead reached the table top.

“The old arrangement was terrible, wires everywhere, easily visible, I’m surprised I didn’t get you both killed by now.” I spoke with a slight irritation to my voice at the sound of Dean’s grumbling.

\---------------

 

“Birthday boy, you’ll want to head right – Dean is working the opposite side, both of you will meet in their sleeping quarters, just in time for some ‘headlopping’ fun.”

“Gotcha.” Sam confirmed with a whisper, the scuffing of his shoes could be heard over the airwaves as he made his way down one of the many hallways, of this vampire’s lair.

“I can see Sam.” Dean muttered softly into my ear, which was closely followed by breathy whispers across a great distance, not meant for my ears.

My inner ear tuned into the thoughts of the vampires just behind the walls from Sam and Dean, there was four of them all of which were – sleeping.

“Green light boys – The bastards are sleeping.”

That’s when my radio went silent, white noise filling my ears as I waited on my brother’s response. This was a crucial time, a single moment in which the loving, caring nature of the boys went literally out the window and for a split second their minds turned into savage monsters in need to fulfil a goal.

The silence bought calmness, the feeling of relief sweeping over me as another case was sort and finished. A time to think, to reflect on yesterday’s planning and….

My hand slipped toward a blue leather book, curling my fingers through the pages to where it fell open naturally, inside the folds of the page sat a single, colour distorted photograph; a photograph of my biological family. My thumb and forefinger picked up the crinkled card, flipping it over to reveal a single date, marked in black ink. 

September 21st 1986

I sighed upon turning the photograph back so I could inspect the picture and their faces once more. I had, had an idea since I was told about everything that lives in the darkness. The boys had taught me to love and forgive, to forgive my family for their wrong doing that night in December.

But there was a part of me that wished to see them burn, I watch their skin melt away like it was nothing but ice for what they did to me all those years ago.

My nostrils flared at the photograph before the crackle of Dean’s heightened, blood soaked voice sang into my ears. 

“They’re all dead – Sam and I are fine – We’ll be heading back soon.” I nodded to his words, still feeling the emptiness that was abandonment caused by my – by the strangers that left me to die in the freezing cold.

“Good work boys - over and out.” I confirmed, wrenching the ear piece from my head, tossing it across the table.

The picture stared at me, boring holes into my eyes.

 

My idea was simple – to summon a crossroads demon.


	3. The Night To Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be uploading a chapter per day. :)

That single thought played on my mind until the boys got back to the bunker, even being underneath the earth I could still feel the vibrations of the primed, pristine Impala as she roared into the garage; wild and oiled. The clattering of doors, droned voices and wet footsteps woke me up from my daze. My eyes filled with happiness as my brothers wandered down the staircase in the main hall.

With a screech I pushed back my chair; fiddling with an old book to cover the crinkled photograph of my biological family as I stood and jogged over to both men who took me in with open arms. 

Sam and Dean sandwiched me, a hug that delivered respect and appreciation for one another’s work and devotion to the hunt, as they both pulled away I stepped back, bouncing on the balls of my feet, my head tilting toward Dean as a cheeky smile flushed into both of our faces. “Can we go celebrate Sam’s birthday now?” I whined playfully.

Sam tore down to my form with huge eyes, a smile curving into his lips as Dean cleared his throat the same smile entering his cheeks. “Tonight’s on me.” 

 

The sound of pressurised deodorant cans echoed through the halls, followed by that particular scent; leather from the inside of a fleshly valeted car with slight hints of something of a floral nature. Tonight was going to be one of them rare moments where both boys relaxed completely; with a mixture of a high from a successful hunt and the anticipation of a birthday celebration. All in all it was going to be a night to remember.

I sat on the stone staircase that lead to the outside world; a world that I did not show my face too often and for good reason. I was more at home with my mugs of coffee, tumblers of whisky, stacks of nostalgic research and re-runs of my favourite movie and of course – Mr Hans Solo.

\------------

 

“We need a designated driver.” I piped up upon slamming the creaking door of the Impala, my circular eyes twinging at the sudden influx of bright yellow neon lights above the local bar’s entrance way.

There was no way in hell Sam was being the driver for tonight; his warm hazel eyes huge and dilated with the idea of breaking away from the chains that bound him to the job. Excitement flooding his mind at the thought of letting go of all stress that happened in the past few days. 

“I’ll drive back – We can have a few beers here, sing some terrible karaoke then head back to the bunker for shots.” Dean spoke as he drove his rough hands into his jacket pockets; curling the material around himself as I made my way to his side, Sam zoning in on the empty space to my other flank.

“Few beers.” I breathed, edging toward the door to the bar; the sounds of men’s laughter, pool balls clattering, glasses clanking and the distant stench of cigarette smoke and off ale.

The noises bought back sweet memories of rebelled years and underage drinking with the brothers, a few times when we thought it was a good idea to light up a cigarette in a cramped motel bathroom whilst hoisted up on Sam’s shoulders to flick the ash out of a crack in the window, each passing the single cigarette around in a circle until we had smoked right down to the foamed nub.

It also bought back pained memories, shadows of addiction in teenage years and mindless indulgence in an attempt to take away the loss and rejection from the few years of my old life.

Sudden panic had begun to consume me.

 

\----------

 

My blank stare caused both brothers anxiety as we sat down at a three seated table, enjoying a fizzy bottle of beer and a basket of home cut fries; watching a highly intoxicated women slur into the microphone. My breathing was short and quick, almost undetectable if you didn't know me - but both of these boys knew me like the back of their hand. 

“Y’know we can go back if the place is bothering you.” Sam lulled into my ear; kneading his large palm over my right shoulder as to comfort my tense state. My daze was broken by the scraping of Dean’s bottle against the hardwood table. I shook my head, batting my eyelids to his thoughtful words and regaining an effort to speak.

“No – no, it’s your birthday – besides it ain’t nothing I can’t handle.” I smiled toward him, shoving the negative thoughts to the back of my mind. My past wasn’t going to bother me now, not when I had the two people that meant to entire world to me at my side - I couldn't stop my mind from wondering; a torrent of thunder that echoed within my skull.

“Anyway…” I leaned in Sam’s direction, tipping my head as to whisper into his ear; he smelt divine, like warmth, cinnamon, minty toothpaste and something I couldn't put my finger on. “Dean’s thinking about stepping up for a song.” I said softly.

“What song?” Sam murmured back, his eyes tightened as he suppressed a laugh.

We shuffled closer together leaving a considerable gap between Dean and I, muffled whispers and low chortles coming from our little nook.

\------------------

“What are you guys whispering about?” Dean returned from the DJ with his brown bottle of beer tangled between his index and middle fingers.

Sam and I both turned our chins up to him, smirks, smiles and stifled giggles all escaping our lips. Dean seated himself, raising both eyebrows with an expression on his face that I can only describe as 'What?!'

“Dean, how many tenors does it take to change a light bulb?” I asked, trying ever so hard to hold back the torrent of laughter that trembled from my tongue; Sam snickered playfully, staring directly into his brothers orbs as Dean gave us an uncertain gaze; lightly shrugging his shoulders.

“Three – One to do it and two to say ‘It’s too high for him.’” Before the last few words rolled from my tongue the laughter took over. I lowered my forehead to the table in a fit of hysterics; Sam snorted loudly, almost falling from his seat where his face landed on my shoulder, both of us unable to control the tears that seeped from our eyes.

Dean rolled his head to the side, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Oh shut up – I’ll make a good Brian Johnson.”

“Yeah you would – If you were 20 years younger!” 

I was barely able to mumble the words from my lips as Sam and I keeled over in a fit of hysterics.

 

\-----------------

 

The tipsy time in the bar went on for another few hours, a good flow of local ale found its way onto our table more than four times, a few empty shot glasses with the remains of the sugary content sticking to the rim next to Sam until his features made contact with the wooden table. Dean’s karaoke session went – as expected, it seemed ‘Shook Me All Night Long.’ Was a tad too high for the eldest brother, mumbling his way through it with a beer in one hand and microphone in the other, much to mine and Sam’s giggling some twenty feet away.

 

“I’ll get you back for that little joke, Y/N.” Dean threatened playfully as we all stumbled down the stone steps of the bunker. Dean and I being the least drunk had decided that both of us wandering down the stairs as Sam followed was a good idea, Y’know just incase the giant of a man lost his footing – although I never expected Dean’s next actions as I reached the bottom step.

With a grunt that was full of fun Dean suddenly wrapped his strong arms tightly around my form, bringing his fingers up to tickle just under my ribs. My eyes shot open, pupils dilating to the intolerable sensation that racked my upper half.

“DEAN?!” I laughed uncontrollably, thrashing in his arms, dropping my weight into his hold as I lost the strength to use my legs.

Dean breathed a rough laugh, his fingers prodding my side until I waved my hand as I to say ‘stop’ although he continued relentlessly.

“Dean! – If you don’t stop! – I’ll…!” 

“You’ll do what?” He teased enough for me to sense the smirk on his cheeky face; his mind filled with thoughts of happiness and a world without worries.

“I’ll scratch baby!” Was the first thing that popped into my head as I flailed around in his arms.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Winchester!”

The pleading yelp in the form of his surname ceased his movements, both of us breathing hard until the sound of a collapsing moose echoed behind us.

We turned in unison eyeing Sam’s huge form lying unconscious on the marbled floor.

“Looks like someone had too much to drink…” Dean commented on Sam’s sated state.

“He always was a lightweight.”

“Wonna help me drag his ass to bed?”

“Only if we can draw on his face.”

Dean’s features turned up into an impish grin. “Deal.”

\----------

The clink of shot glasses rang out as Dean and I sat at the breakfast table with a full bottle of vintage whisky.

“To health.” Dean slurred shotting the whisky in one foul gulp that tightened his cheek muscles and stubbled chin. I did the same as the burning hot liquid slid down my throat and warmed my stomach to the core.

“Yeah – that.” I choked slamming my shot glass down on the table in time for Dean to pour another.

There was silence as the whisky replaced the emptiness within the shot glass, my eyes transfixed on the content as it reached the brim. Dean’s tongue poked from between his lips as he struggled to keep the bottle steady. 

I breathed deeply contemplating my next thoughts.

“Have I ever showed you a picture of my 'real' family?”

Dean’s wrist lifted up from a pouring position; droplets of the amber liquid spilling onto the table top. He twisted his head into somewhat of a shake, lowering the bottle down to the hardwood; pushing aside scribbled case notes. I reached out to move aside an old book in which covered the degraded photograph, my fingertips working their way onto the picture, pushing it toward Dean.

He lifted it from its wooden resting place, bringing it up to his eyes.

“I remember you as a kid – but you’re not on here.” he commented.

“1986 – Before I was born.” I said pointing to the back of the picture. Dean lifted his eyes as they made contact with my finger, he flexed his fingers, rotating the flimsy card to reveal the date.

“From what you’ve told us – they sound like…” I stopped him for he could continue.

“Yeah – they were monsters. – I mean, what would you do?”

“Me?”

I took the full shot of whisky before carrying on, wincing at the heat that entered my throat.

“Yeah – Y’know seek revenge or let it slide?” There was a pause as Dean thought of the best answer to give – Trying not to encourage my secret idea that was bouncing around inside my head.

“What would Hans Solo do?” A light smile entered his lips and a breathy chuckle humming within his heated chest

“I’m not Hans Solo, Dean.” My tone was stern, my eyes boring into the back of the photograph that Dean still held up to his face. His smile faded, dropping down into a frown and a deeper pitch of voice; his protective ‘big brother’ side showing in an instant.

“Let it slide.” He rumbled toward me, his raspier tone of voice intimidating to my ears. – Although the little voice inside his head said otherwise, a voice pleading to say ‘revenge’

“That’s not what you’re thinking though huh?”

“Let it slide.” He repeated, leaning into the table; the wood creaking at his weight. The brief tapping of his fingernails on lumber alerted me to the placement of the photograph; sat directly in front of my eyes as I glanced down.

“You live with Sammy and I now – We’re your family.”

To leave the past where it should be felt – wrong, like a simple salt and burn case but without the gasoline to ignite the fire. Dean’s words were to protect me but all they did was spark an extra flame to my already burning mind. Just another obstacle to clamber over in search for an end goal and if I had picked up only one thing from growing up with the Winchesters it was this: What advice they gave was often the correct path – but resolution and revenge comes in many forms.


	4. Demons, Deals and Demands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this chapter I actually added a song into it.   
> Passive - A Perfect Circle.
> 
> Feedback is always welcomed! :)

Hangover wasn’t the word to describe what was going on inside my head, an arterial throbbing that attacked any common sense. A thirst so great it left me pinning for gallons of cool water, a vow never – ever to consume alcohol again. Which was a blatant lie give it a week and a stressful case I’d pull out the vintage scotch from the cellar.

“Wow, well don’t you look like shit.” Dean cheerfully commented as he wandered into the kitchen in nothing but grey boxers, a shirt and his black robe loosely tied around his waist.

It seems my bed for the entire night had been the breakfast table; my cheek quite literally smushed into the cool rosewood finish. The whisky shots from the night before taking a rather hard toll on my body. I lifted my pen imprinted cheek only to wince at the bright light and the eldest brother that stood so unaffected at the kitchen counter.

“Oh fuck off.” I groaned, covering my stinging eyes with the underside of my arm, a titter of soft laugher resonating behind me, followed by a scraping, scratching sound right beside my ear.

My eyes glistened to the sight of water within a translucent glass, rippling liquid of life at my fingertips. Dean watched on as I gulped down the glass; droplets running down my chin, condensed air filling the now misty cup.

“Still want me to fuck off?” He chimed arrogantly, lifting a single eyebrow and crossing his arms in defiance. I shook my head whilst pushing the empty glass aside.

\----------------

Even though Dean held a thick skin most of the time; his very own protective barrier against all things that could mentally hurt him. He was infinitely caring and sweet like our very own plush teddy bear underneath his brutal warrior exterior. Granted, he was never one for truly ‘lovey dovey’ moments but when it mattered he stepped in, just as he did with the single glass of water. A simple gesture but a gesture that held so many meanings, it was the simple things that made the difference.

With my insatiable thirst quenched and pounding headache eased with a supply of decade old painkillers it was time to attempt to talk. In my case it wasn’t really that difficult to spark up some sort of conversation with the eldest brother as his mind was flowing freely with active thoughts about the shenanigans from the night before.

“Sam’s still in a coma.” He commented rustling a newspaper in front of his face. My features lifted from their position on the table, the noises travelling into my head making me wince and cringe.

“Actually he’s in the bathroom – leaning over the toilet.” I muttered, staring blankly at the back of the newspaper held within Dean’s hands. “He has a bruise on his left temple from where he fell last night and – oh.” I halted my words, wincing once again at the gut wrenching sound throbbing alongside my own hangover. 

“More puke.”

Dean briskly flattened the paper, rolling it up and pointed it toward me. “I don’t need a running commentary of Sam spewing alcoholic clam chowder.”

“Neither do I – but I can’t exactly zone out from his thoughts.” With an exasperated sigh as I slipped off my chair, giving my unused limbs a stretch before wandering toward one of the several corridors.

“Where you goin’?”

“To check on our brother.”

 

\----------------

While that part was true I had a second agenda; the thought from last night. The old photograph folded quarterly then shoved into the back of my denim pocket. I was seriously contemplating going ahead with my idea; summoning a crossroads demon to uh – well I wasn’t too sure, although I wanted pay back I didn’t have a callous enough heart to name my sin. A sin that my adoptive brothers would frown upon, a sin that would lead to inevitable arguments and sleepless nights. 

Was it even worth it? To inflict such pain on the ones that cared the most for me? all for a primal revenge kick and a lifetime deal? – Yes. 

\--------------

I did what I said, I checked on Sam after hearing his pleading groaning, splutters and pained sighs. The drunken, scribbled drawings etched in permanment marker on the younger Winchesters face from Dean and I from the night before smudged and wiped away as best as possible. It was hard to contain a giggle at the sight of two giant dicks, one on each side of his face; detailed with veins and dripping with – Never mind!

It took the same sort of gesture to sway Sam; a cool glass of water to relax his senses and the burning within his throat, a pat on the back and a packet of painkillers saw the giant lumbering man wander back into his bedroom.

Sam to bed – Check.

Now, all I had to do was get rid of Dean and I could slip out without detection, find my crossroads, make my deal and be done with it...

 

The rest of the day carried on without a hitch, my hangover ebbing away with each passing hour. Coffee drowning out fatigue as the day rolled over into night and the sound of the nights movie tingled into my sensitive ears as Dean’s rough palm soothed over my denim clad legs while we both intensely sunk our eyes into the large TV screen in front of us.

“I never got it y’know.” Dean interrupted, rather randomly half way through Lord of the Rings: Fellowship. My brow contorted, twisting my confused features round to him.

“Get what?” I asked as he pointed toward the TV with a pathetic hand gesture. “Y’know how they couldn’t just take the eagles to Mordor and be done with it.”

I scoffed, turning with a shake of my head and a defensive crossing of arms. 

“Are you serious? – If they’d taken the eagles to Mordor the whole trilogy would be basically bullshit fillers and a load of old men complaining about how much their feet hurt.”

“I’m just saying it seems more logical to take the eagles.” He argued.

I rolled my eyes, unfolding my arms to grab the pillow from behind my head, fluffing it slightly, testing the hardness and aim before walloping it around his scalp. “You’re an idiot.”

 

\--------------

 

As to be expected Dean fell asleep bundled up on the couch again right when the Balrog of Moria stepped away from the shadows, brandishing a whip glowing bright with licking flames. The noise of the TV muting my movements as I edged my way from the couch and stood, turning on my heels and heading quickly toward the entrance to the garage.

You can still turn back, you can still stop the arguments and distrust – I told myself.

‘It’s better off this way.’

It was no use, the feeling burning within my very soul would never cease if I continued to live with supressed emotions – just knowing they were still out there in the world, and knowing they left me to die in the bitter cold and endless woodland sparked my final decision.

My finger flicked the bright white lights on in the garage, each popping on one by one, stinging my exhausted eyes as I took in all the pristine cars carefully lined up, twinkling under the brightness of the over-head lights. There was variety of cars to choose from, most were ‘off the road’ as it were; gleaming, curved wheel-arches depicting ancient vehicles dating from the 1920’s running into the glorious 40’s – 50’s and so on. The only ones running would be Dean’s precious baby and a cobalt blue 1969 Camaro. A muscle car Sam used for food runs and ‘undercover’ jobs. A beautiful car, narrow white stripes caressing the hood, complementing the decent paintjob; although it had nothing on the black and chrome Impala.

Key’s weren’t a problem of course; pairs dangling on a row of hooks beside the entrance. The only problem that sat before me was noise. To start up the fierce, primal engine of the gleaming muscle car would wake up the entire bunker; even with Sam’s aggressive hangover.

I sighed, staring off into the row of cars; my eyes fixed on the blue steel stallion. A flush of adrenaline pumped through my veins at the thought of pay back. My rebellious side urging me to throw my cards down and deal - and that’s all it took.

 

‘As dead as dead can be, my doctor tells me I just can’t believe him ever the optimistic one. I’m sure of your ability to become my perfect enemy.’

The garage door lifted with painstaking slowness, creaking and scratching against its metal hold. The night’s chilling breeze whirled into the concrete palace as my delicate fingers wrapped around the handle of the Camaro. It felt like a split second as I seated myself and plunged the jangling keys into the ignition, sparking the roaring engine into life. There was no thought of noise or waking the brothers as I slammed my foot down on the accelerator; screeching cold rubber tires, gushing smoke and poisonous fumes.

My chin rose, a sharp breath escaping between my lips as I wrenched the handbrake down and the heavy muscle car screamed forward, jolting and bouncing into the world outside.

My knuckles were white and tightened as I gripped the leather steering wheel; a high rush flooding my system, a rush I hadn’t felt in years, not since my selfish addiction.

Freedom brushed through my hair, flowing onto my cooling skin. My flesh prickling from the open driver’s window as I sped down narrow country roads in search on any infamous crossroads to hand. A small, scuffed Tabaco tin sat ominously on the passenger seat next to me; shadowed by the passing of streetlights.

‘Wake up and face me, don’t play dead ‘cause maybe someday I will walk away and say – You disappoint me, maybe you’re better off this way.’

The pale tone of the midnight’s sky alerted me to the steady rise of the golden sun, time was literally running out before both Winchester brothers awoke – unless they weren’t already awake; panicking in a mad rant at my disappearance…

 

Crossroads.

 

With a threatening screech and tearing of tires as I threaded the wheel through my hands; turning with enough force to flip the heavy car, the back end fraying out at the loss of control.

The foul humming stench of burning rubber hadn’t yet cleared as I stumbled out the cobalt car, tin in hand and a one track mind. The crunch of rough gravel beneath the soles of my shoes bought a sense of reality; lowering my jean clad knees to the harsh surface. My fingers dug down into the gravel, pushing aside the pebbles and stones; gritting and crushing together.

I stood in the centre of the four way junction, my head turning and tossing from side to side as I took in each direction. A primal fear racing within my mind as the gagging scent of sulphur mixed with burnt rubber entered the atmosphere and a small, growling voice arrived in my mind; a sinister cackle and snapping jaws. I turned to greet the demon standing behind me, her long black dress kissing the bumpy road. She seemed to sense my anxiety immediately.

“Oh sweetie – You’re first time?”

My shoes scuffed taking in her seductive form; eyes flashing a shade of crimson that complimented her long brown hair; rivets and curls framing her face.

“You could say that.” I returned with a faked over confident tone. “Although it’s not the first time I’ve run into a demon.”

Her neat eyebrows rose as she elegantly wandered closer to my position, a wild smirk entering her full lips as I stood my ground.

“You’re a hunter. – well – that’ll add to my pay rai…” 

“I can’t make the deal with you – You’re inferior, just another grunt.” I shrugged my shoulders effortlessly, tilting my head to her quickening advance; circling my form like a ravenous vulture. The glint in her eyes spoke of irritation and heated rage to my comment.

My mind and eyes watched for any sign of attack.

“Just another huntress whore.” She mimicked my tone.

I exhaled harshly to her poisoned words. “I want to talk to your boss.” My demand was simple, a determined glaze sat beneath my orbs.

 

‘Leaning over you here cold and catatonic, I catch a brief reflection of what you could and might have been. It’s your right and your ability to become my perfect enemy.’

 

The look in her eyes changed rapidly from pure uncontrollable anger to urgent fear. The single muttering of his name sparking unbreakable trepidation within her crimson eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for…”

The famous 'Winchester' smirk rose into my lips. “I know exactly what I’m asking for – I’m a Winchester, your king is no acquaintance to us.” I said darkly, outstretching my arms as to show off the legendary name of my two brothers.

“You little slu…!”

A crackling, scuffed sound echoed from the side of us; the crimson eyed crossroads demon and huntress. Followed by an assertive, deep voice.

“And that’s enough.” His rough voice silenced the grunt demon who backed away with a gracious and carefully thought out bow. “Leave your post – I’ll take it from here.” He added dangerously, his suit showing from the corner of my eyes; the clad in black piece complimented with the striking grey and silver paisley tie.

In a blink of an eye she was gone, the scent of high quality cologne clearing the putrid stench left behind from the car. It took a second for Crowley to acknowledge my presence; his bearded features turning down to me with a wicked grin; lips curving, dimples forming.

“The other, other – other Winchester – Moose and Squirrel never mentioned you.” His comment was cold, formed to hurt and punch buttons.

“There was never a need to discuss me, I assume.” I countered.

Silence overtook the space between us. He gave the distinct impression that I had torn him away from a very important business transaction; the mind of the king racing a mile a minute as we glared at each-other. 

He took a deep breath.

“What kind of deal is so imperative that it requires the king of hell himself to seal it? – Didn’t like my little grunt?” Although the words uttered from his thin lips were genuine, it wasn’t the real question he was dying to have answered.

My eyes never left his as I spoke with conviction. “Because you’re the only one who can seal it. - Sam and Dean are still searching for you.”

With narrowing eyes, creases appearing beside them and deep furrows contorting into his brow sudden flames lit up behind them, adding an almost amber glow to his greenish hazel orbs. “What?”

“Sam and Dean are still in search of you – They intend to…”

“Yes yes I know – Complete the trials and cure a demon, close the gates of hell blah blah blah.”

I breathed in his strongly scented cologne with a mixture of a sulphurous undertone. The images within his mind rushed with vibrant colours, a clash of blues and reds with a black backdrop, swirling images forming into anxiety inducing descriptions of his inevitable downfall. “You’re worried they’ll succeed one day – Even you know everything comes to an end.” I threatened lightly.

HIs eyes widened, cracked lips partially parting.

Worried flushed into anger at his sudden realisation of my telepathic capabilities. Crowley took a step forward, grasping a single jacket lapel, lifting my form from the ground somewhat effortlessly. “Get out of my head.” He growled dangerously; flaring his nostrils and gritting his teeth.

A shaky laugh escaped my lips, my weightless body dangling in front of him like a cut of meat. “I’m afraid that’s impossible for me to fulfil – I was born with it – comes in handy though for the right people – or demon.” I stuttered

Crowley’s grip tightened on my jacket; the material crinkling under his intense administrations, his large fist trembling as I was lowered to the gravelled ground, his facial expression changing rapidly; intrigue surfacing in the contour of his heavy cheekbones , lips slightly agape, fingers running through his rough beard as he contemplated my subliminal offer.

“I - I can help – I can keep my infamous brothers clear of you indefinitely, If you do one little thing for me.” I confirmed his suspicions; my telepathy. My soft, delicate hands flattening jacket from his grip; indentations within the fabric.

“One little thing? – What do you think this is, darling?” The words exited his mouth with a deep, earthy snarl.

“I think you’d be stupid not to contemplate the offer.” I said bluntly, twisting on the balls of my feet.

“It all depends on your ‘one little thing’” Inside his head he had already made up his mind, but tugging on my metaphorical strings seemed to please his darkened heart.

With a single thought I had come up with their punishment, a cold and callous wish that prickled with frightening excitement. From the back of my jeans pocket I slowly nipped the photograph between my index finger and thumb; unfolding it as I bought it round my body, reaching out toward the king.

Crowley’s features stared down at the sepia faded picture. Stubby fingers took the thin card from my grip. 

I inhaled an unstable breath.

“Murder them.”

 

‘Maybe you’re better off this way.’

 

“…By any means you see fit.”

Crowley was silent, his eyes tracing the outline of each of my family members, his thumb brushing over the aged card.

“Kill them – and I’ll help you evade my brothers.” There was a pleading tone to my voice as Crowley’s eyes suddenly came into contact with my own, a disbelieving expression plastering his aged face.

He saw the hatred in my eyes; like a ball of hot cosmic gas floating among innocent, beautiful stars. The soaked heat rising into my orbs as I held back a torrent of repressed emotions; as though the bitter snow was pooling at my ankles once more.

He tilted his handsome features down to me, noticing a single tear roll down my cheek. I brushed it away with the back of my hand. 

“Conditions.” He muttered harshly, whisky scented breath washing over my senses; a spark of hope rolling throughout my body. “Keep to your terms or your soul is mine to keep and do with as I see fit.”

My mind buzzed with a shocking electric current, my heart beating fast enough it threatened to leap out of my chest. He accepted my terms.

“Deal.” I said without hesitation.

 

A deep, demonic growl rumbled through his clad in black chest as he stepped forward as to claim his prize. As to be expected he wasn’t gentle; not like every other man I had kissed. True to his name and status, he was rough and god, did I know about it.

First thing I knew was his large, rough palm cupping my tender cheek; finger tips latching into my soft skin, pulling me closer to him, pinching into my flesh, stinging and biting. His particular scent all around and over me as he leaned in with pin point accuracy - Crowley’s lips crushed into mine, pushing me back with his brutal force. A mysterious free hand out of no-where had started to snake around my waist, tugging me into his hot body.

The king’s lips were surprisingly soft although his bristled beard scratched away at my cheeks as he titled to get a better angle; sliding his tongue past my fleshy barriers, demanding entrance. Growls escaping his throat as I attempted to kiss back; tongues fighting for dominance, keeping up with his punishing pace. The smell, the taste and feel of him was becoming enticing and overall tantalizing. I groaned into the forceful kiss, slowly reaching up to grasp his tie and jerk him down to me for a more pressured touch.

Indeed it went on for longer than expected, my fingers entwined around his paisley tie, his hands either gripping my hip bone or digging into my neck and hair. I mean that was until breathing became an issue.

He finally pulled away after giving a quick nip to my swollen bottom lip; puncturing the sensitive flesh causing it to bleed. Marking his territory like a rabid dog or tainting the living being that had now given so much.

“Do your deals always end up like that?” I gasped searching for the purest form of oxygen known to man. Blood radiating from the small nip to the inner tissue. 

Crowley retracted his hands from my neck and hip, pushing back from my form with a smug grin on his face. He ignored my question. “Our deal is finalised – I will personally complete our transaction.” He bounced on the balls of his feet as he edged backwards, flexing his fingers against his palm as to wave goodbye. “You’ll be hearing from me soon.” 

Crowley, The king of hell had disappeared from view, no doubt to fulfil his promise in a matter of hours. There was something about Crowley that screamed complete and total authority, it’s not that he was the king; the ruler under the earth. 

It was his full blown, undeniable confidence that made him attractive, the high quality black suit and silver silk paisley tie. His deep, reverberating voice, sass and smarminess about him that caused incontestable fascination.

I dabbed the spots of blood away from my lip, striding back to the Cobalt Camaro, a lingering heat in my lower stomach and a flush to my cheeks. All of which was suddenly washed away with vibrations against my outer thigh. A struggle ensued, pulling, yanking on the bulky cell phone in my denim pocket.

The name on the phone sent freezing bolts of anxiety down my spine; index finger gliding over the correct button in which initiated the call.

The eldest brothers deep, pained voice crackled through the cell phone barrier as I held it away from my ear, wincing at his tone.

“D! – Dean! Dean! I can explain, just – hold on okay! – No! - Dude!” His grumbling and unending rant only seeming to get louder with frustration and fear.

“Dean! – when have I ever lied to you…”


	5. Conditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, just a few little references to self harm and needle tracks in this one.

“I told you it’s nothing - I’m fine Dean.” I muttered, grasping at a freezing ice packet that was wrapped in a small hand towel. The eldest brother was glaring at me from across the table, bitch-face initiated with cold eyes and crossed forearms. “A busted lip doesn’t look like nothing or fine, Y/N.”

A light breath wisped across my cheek as Sam removed the ice pack from my grip and held it against the side of my face to halt the swelling. “I told you – I was stressed, went out for some air, must have bitten my lip too hard.” I lied convincingly, after all I had been bought up to lie professionally in the face of danger, I mean that’s part of what hunting was about; either impersonating a state police officer or the goddamn FBI.

“It’s a hefty bite wound.” Sam commented whilst peeling back my lower lip to take a peek at the tiny injury. My brow furrowed, eyes rotating upward toward the giant man inspecting my lip. My orbs then wandered toward Dean who sat motionless opposite me, I knew what he wanted to ask. 

I sighed heavily, my swollen lips pouting as I shrugged off my jacket, the material limply falling to the stone floor with a light thud. Sam had stepped away, watching my movements with curious eyes as I rolled up my plaid sleeves to reveal a canvas of scars. I turned and twisted my arms, showing Dean the crease of my elbow. “See? – nothing, I didn’t do anything.” My tone was forked; a burning hot whisper directed toward the eldest brother.

Dean’s large, rough palm came out to gently take my wrist in his hand, his thumb smoothing over the white lumps and darkened needle scars. His emerald eyes working their way up through the patchwork of self-inflicted wounds and tracks. He gave a relieved sigh; hot breath prickling against my skin. “I really thought we’d lost you to it again - Promise us you won’t go back there.”

It had been nearly five years since I had picked up any kind of blade or needle. In the beginning it had been a way to relieve stresses and my haunting past. It was a way for me to forget, to numb myself from the constant mental rejection. My addiction to heroin soon took over after that. My body demanded it, shaking and rippling my skin, sickness starving me until all that was important was my next fix and where it came from.

Both brothers had saved my life.

“I promise both of you, I’m never going near that stuff again.”

\----------------------

A new day and a new case; finally something to take my mind off that smartly dressed demon that everyone referred to as Crowley. His aggressive kiss still evident within my lower lip, the neat little nip he administrated as a sign of territory. The stinging bruise only seemed to remind me of the heat that flushed my entire body, his high quality cologne and the enticing the compulsive urge to see him again. The power he resonated with was addictive, his mere voice enough to send a tingling sensation down my spine. If I didn’t know any better it felt like I was….

“Y/N! – What’s the news on this shifter?” Sam raised his voice to get my dazed attention and blank stare toward the vast amount of piled books. My eyelids fluttered to blink several times; clearing my throat and proceeding with scribbling notes within a small case file. The ticking copper alarm clock at my side, a reminder of what I was actually trying to do.

“I – uh I – I pieced together some clippings from a newspaper and the information you gave me, looks like we’re dealing with a jealous shifter.” Sam pulled up a chair next to me, two steaming mugs of black coffee in hand; sliding one of them my way. “Jealousy? – I know shifters have human drives but we’ve never come across a jealous one.”

“Well now you have – best explanation is that the shifter became jealous of the husband, took his form and then locked him up somewhere or worse.”

“He’s playing happy families.” Sam muttered, licking his lips of the bitter brew.

I nodded, lowering my tired features to the table enough to sip at the mug without using my hands. “There’s a good chance the real dude isn’t dead – unless the shifter has some sort of homicidal agenda the victim should still be kept alive.”

My handwriting was less than neat at the present time but legible for Sam to read on the drive. My pen rolling to and fro on the white page, an address and my radio frequency dotted underneath. 

“Here.” I gave him the scribbled paper. “It’d be best if you and Dean went now, that guy won’t last too much longer if he’s alive. My radio frequency is written underneath if you need information or help.” 

Sam lightly took the paper between his fingers, his eyes flooding with emotion as he made contact with mine. His large palm wandering out onto the vast table only to stop the constant ticking clock with a single tap. “That means leaving you on your own.”

Goddamn it, I knew exactly what he was getting at, images within the shell of his mind conjuring up past events and lone nights. He and Dean it seems were terrified of leaving for the fear of me doing something stupid or worse.

“I’ll be fine Sam – what could happen? I’ll lie in bed alone, with a bowl of sweet popcorn, chocolate, peanut butter, cola, and fangirling over Harrison Ford or Elijah Wood.”

A sweet smile erupted into Sam’s chiselled features, his fingertips tucking the scrap bit of paper within his pocket. “We’ll wear our ear pieces on the road…”

“I know, you’ll both be there to talk.” I completed his sentence with a grin running into my lips.

\------------

 

Sam and Dean left moments later, shouts and clatters coming from the main hall as they assorted silver knives, bindings and bullets. The next thing I knew was two pairs of strong arms wrapping around my form, pulling me into a tight hug before they hesitating left with just a slam of the garage door.

I breathed a sigh of relief, it wasn’t every day that I actually got time to myself and I mean proper alone time. A period where I could just totally relax with my mind silent and a selection of movies and chocolates at my disposal.

The bunker was an eerie silence – a wicked grin ran across my face.

“Finally.” I whispered to myself. Making a sudden break toward the kitchen with all of its wonderful foodie scents - and left over apple pie.

...Left over apple pie...

“Thank you, Dean.” I praised, taking the half eaten apple pie from the fridge only to place it on the counter. On top of that pie went vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. My lower lumber sinking into the counter as I took the first heavenly bite. “Oh my god.” I mumbled with a full mouth, tasting every seasoning and sweet pastry. “Ohh, this is a treasure.” My fork scraped on the flimsy metal tin, mushing the filling in with the whipped cream. A deep hum of pure satisfaction resonating within my chest. Popcorn was next, the mixture of a droning microwave and literal popping of sweet corn. The scent of butter flowing throughout the kitchen, embedding in my clothes.

I splayed out of the couch, a huge bowl of popcorn resting gently on my stomach, peanut butter jar and bars of chocolate to my side buried into a pillow, TV remote in hand and wireless ear piece stuffed into the shell of my ear. The grumblings of Dean in the background and Sam’s soft snores against the Impala’s passenger window. The opening credits to Lord of the Rings: Two Towers sending a sense of comfort my way.

The warmth of the two blankets covering my body was pure bliss, as was the each leg room I encountered without the two boy’s sharing the single couch with me; knee joints creaking and clinking with each stretch…

“So this is the hunter’s lair.” Came a familiarly deep, gritty voice. 

I spooked, sitting upright, clinging the large bowl of popcorn like it was my only life line, little pieces flying here and there as the black outlined form of Crowley appeared from the shadows.

Without further thinking I ripped the ear piece from its home and shoved it underneath the pillow; distorting any sound the brothers might hear.

“Fuck me!” I exclaimed, panting and panicking with every fibre of my being. 

“No need for expletives, darling.” Crowley walked around the couch, tapping my legs once as to ask me to move. “Shift.” He added, my legs curled up toward my body as the king seated himself rather comfortably on the couch. 

“You look surprised to see me.”

I breathed heavily, not knowing if I should actually panic horribly or smile knowing that the devils details had come to an end.

“A warning thought would’ve been nice.”

“Yes well – You sent the hardy boys on a road trip across state lines…”

“I know it was a good a time as any.”

“Precisely.”

We sat in total silence for a while; the only sound rolling through the thick atmosphere was the TV; Hobbit chatter.

“Never took you for a…”

“A nerd? – oh please, I’m just more brains than brawn – Tolkien’s various works are masterpieces – Peter Jackson just bought them to life.”

A smug grin tugged itself into Crowley’s thin lips at my little rant. “Clearly.”

I guess it should’ve felt weird – extremely weird to be sitting next to the king of hell, watching Lord of the Ring’s – but it didn’t, not even in the slightest. With our head’s turned toward the TV; eyes intently watching the characters, my lips following their every word. Crowley breathed in heavily.

“Your family are no more – killed off personally by my own hands – The shock on their faces.”

My brow swiftly turned to the king; his simultaneously moving with mine until our earthly eyes made contact, a single large palm gently rest itself up on my leg, his fingers digging into the blanket.

“Did they suffer?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

I breathed a sigh, my eyes fluttering to a close. Crowley’s grip grew tighter. The same heat that boiled in my stomach yesterday came back with vengeance. A mix of emotions that clouded my mind. “They told me what abilities you possess, the telepathy so – I have a proposition for you.”

Somehow, just freaking somehow Crowley was shutting off his mind, making it completely unreadable to my vision, anxiety sparking within my mind. “A proposition?”

“Work for me, here and there, I have a few business deals I cannot attend personally.”

“And what do I get in return.”

“To live.”

His hand snaked up my leg only to brush down in one fluid motion. He knew exactly what he was doing, a smirk plastering his features.

“So – do we have a deal?”

 

Scotch was in many circumstances a lifesaver; granted it had terrible side effects if left to consume the entire bottle but scotch like many liquors tainted anxiety and boosted self-confidence, a little thing known as ‘Dutch courage’.

Scotch was on the wine list tonight after Crowley proposed I work for him, and I don’t mean some backyard, moonshine from down south. No I cracked out one of the rarest vintages, filling a tumbler with three or four shots.

Taking and accepting the deal wasn’t the problem, it was the nervousness and anxiety that flooded with it, lying to my brothers again, working for the very demon they wished to capture.

My padded my forehead with my fingertips; sweat seeping into my palm. My breathing near out of control as both sides of the line racked my brain. “Another deal? – greed’s a sin y’know.” I muttered through trembling lips and slick hands.

“Demon.” Crowley gestured toward himself, plucking the black material of his trench coat between his fingers. The kings hazel eyes were glaring toward my tumbler of neat scotch, eyeing it up like it was one of the finest and rarest of jewels.

“It’s considered rude not to offer your guests a drink.”

I swirled my amber drink around in its glass before downing it and slamming the glass onto the rosewood finish table. “To be a guest I’d technically have to invite you – I did no such thing.”

Crowley took a painstaking slow step toward me; his rough hands deep within his pockets and a tight grin pulling into his lips.

“Quite the contrary – Ever since our little kiss back at the crossroads and the seal of our deal, you were and are part of my kingdom – I am now offering you employment.”

My heart raced inside my chest, throbbing through my thick arterial veins which lead from the beating muscle. My skin flushed a shade of pink as he closed in and his scent entered my nervous system, halting any and all movement and common sense.

“I never agreed to be your property – I merely agreed to keep my brothers away.” I whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“You clearly didn’t read the fine print.” He muttered back with his rough yet velvet tongue.

He stood five or so feet away, a deep hummed chuckle rumbling through his chest at my nervousness and innocence.

He started to stalk, circle with articulated slowness; his chin dipping down only for his burning eyes to glare at me from under their hoods. His stature one of a prowling, blood thirsty predator.  
Heat spread throughout my body to his new alluring demeanour. Crowley’s intellectual brain was flooded with intrigue – I intrigued him, my whole character was one he had not encountered before and with intrigue came wants, desires, lusts. To own the human with a very special ability; an upper hand against enemies and a being to understand him completely without uttering a single word.

I did not need to ask him about the terms of the deal – He projected his mind clearly, my soul would stay intact, he had no interest in that. Immunity was pushed forward clear as day, not just for me but for Sam and Dean as well.

“That’s a lot to give up.” I commented, stirring my head from the inner daze, my eyes landing directly on his. “How do I know you won’t break our deal?”

Crowley smirk faded from his lips; cheek bones sagging into a mighty frown. “You don’t – seasons change, agenda’s vary.” He gave a light shrug. “Can’t promise anything.”

“You’re completely insufferable.”

\-------------

Silence came before us; an invisible barrier that separated our two beings. My mind was working overtime, picking through his offer and his so called immunity that he would grant on the touch of our lips. Which bought up another problem buried beneath mountains of research, stresses and fear. If I didn’t know any better, his smug grin, smarminess and overall sass was taking a toll on my body.

It had been sometime since I had, had any interaction with the opposite sex; his fierce kiss being the first in months. His kiss being the contact I craved, needed and desired. The very moment at the crossroads, through trembling lips and quaking hands had ignited something inside me. A feral wanting, a desire that only built with each passing hour. To feel his rough, callous hands snake into my hair, tugging, gripping and pinching sparked heat in my lower belly.

But to bed the king of hell was – unspeakable, down right wrong, he was a demon after all, dead but somewhat alive in the shell of another.

Without noticing Crowley had made himself at home while I was dazed. Pulling out the chair opposite the rosewood finish table, hoisting himself up and sliding the ancient scotch toward himself; snapping his fingers swiftly to procure a glass tumbler from thin air.

“Penny for your thoughts.” He muttered lightly, pouring the sharp amber liquid into his glass.

With blank eyes I too seated myself at the table, trying desperately to drown out the need for him. “I uh – I don’t – You don’t even know my name.” Were the words that slipped from my lips.

Crowley halted his pouring; gesturing toward my own glass with raised eyebrows. “Care for a glass?” He asked more civilised than before.

I nodded, waving my hand as I dug deeper into his mind, not really paying attention to his movements. 

“Your name…” He droned, twisting the cap onto the large brown bottle, scraping it across the table. “Your mother mentioned it – Y/N if I’m not mistaken?”

I nodded again, threading my fingers together underneath the table. “Yes.” I said simply, lowering my head as to concentrate on his over active mind.

\-----------

Hours had passed and Crowley was sitting around the bunker; slouching at the dining table hand pressed into his face and beard ever waiting on my decision. I wandered up and down the dining hall, pacing, thinking, watching him out of the corner of my eye. It was getting ridiculous, his presence alone was getting me hot under the collar – although I hated him, hated him for the demon that he was. He was totally stuck up, refined and so smug it could be dripping from his pores.

With a deep sigh I strode back toward him; my shoes echoing the marbled palace. Crowley’s face lifted from its resting position; red handprints imprinted on his cheek.

“Deal.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me – I’ll make this deal with you, but then after that you leave me alone, I carry on as normal – send a carrier pigeon with the case details you wish to have completed.”

The king sighed heavily, standing up from his seated position; straightening out his suit. “Now who’s being insufferable?”

The heat in my lower belly panged as soon as he straightened himself out, standing tall and true, staring down at me with his piercing hazel eyes – Although he was not as rough as before. To start with, he caressed my cheek with the back of his tough hand, running it slowly down to my slightly agape mouth where he slipped his thumb just past the fleshy barrier; probably inspecting his handiwork from our last encounter.

“Little lamb.” He murmured softly, letting his thumb drop and his hand snake around my neck. I braced myself for his crushing blow, but none came. Instead his lips moulded into mine leaving lingering pecks and little nips to my sensitive flesh. His tongue was still demanding, pushing past my lips as I opened my mouth; a small grunt vibrating his chest.

Our tongues wrestled for dominance, becoming ever rougher, fiercer than it had started off. Each of his little nips turned into savage bites but not enough to draw blood. Just as it was getting interesting he pulled away from my plump flesh, breathing heavily into my cheek; his nose skimming my heated skin, running down to my jawline. “You liked that.” He commented hoarsely, less of a question more of acknowledgement, He inhaled my scent; a mixture of perfume and pheromone infused skin. “You smell good enough to eat.” He growled.

I tried desperately to stop myself from whimpering and tearing off his clothes in an instant. My lips trembling, tingling from the assault he layered them with. Before my rational mind zoned back my hands were already on his paisley tie, whimpering and wanting with need, tugging him down to meet my lips once again. He obliged, moving in sync, rougher than before, scratching, biting, tugging, and pushing me backwards until my lower lumber hit the table. Crowley’s large palms wound around the back of my thighs, lifting me onto the rosewood.  
Our intensity never let up, my hands suddenly pushing his black trench coat and suit from his shoulders; falling to the stone floor with a light hush. He loosened his tie, unbuttoning his black shirt just enough to expose the tops of his chest and collarbone. He chuckled to himself, warm whisky scented breath washing over me as he gripped my jean clad hips. “Mine.” He growled dangerously, moving his hips between my legs, a huge bulge evident as he pressed against my covered core. I moaned lightly to the feeling, trying to hold on to what little dignity I had left…

Our time together was abruptly halted to the sound of muffled shouting; Sam and Dean through the ear piece still lodged underneath the pillow. I stopped immediately from undoing Crowley’s tie, heat and wetness burning in my loins soon worry and fear for my brothers strongly overtook the need for a quick fuck. With a single push Crowley backed away gracefully, letting me slide off the table. I stared up at him; messy, dishevelled hair, swollen lips and lust filled eyes. “C’mon, you can’t leave me hanging like that!” He exclaimed with bolts of anger flooding his face. 

I closed the space between us, righting his hair and buttoning up his shirt. The strain on his black slacks obvious even without staring at it. “Your carrier pigeons will bring me my case files.” My hand lingered on his chest before I turned and waked away. “I’ll be back.” He whispered to himself. A snap of fingers in the background alerting me to his disappearance.

I fumbled with the ear piece, my heart still throbbing from the close encounter with Crowley, my centre pulsing, demanding his immediate attention.

As I fitted the ear piece into the shell of my ear all I could hear was deep grumbling, Dean being pissed off as per usual. I took a breath.

“Sorry boys, must have fell asleep without the piece in”

“Harrison Ford again Y/N?” Sam asked, piping up instantly to my voice.

“Uh – yeah, y’know me, just started watching it on directors commentary.” I lied through my teeth.

“You watch that film way too much – You need to get laid.” Dean chirped into the microphone jokingly. I rolled my eyes, and held my forehead in my slick palms.

“You guys have no idea.”


	6. An Apple A Day Keeps The Demon Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my absence. I've had some personal issues to deal with but I'm back to normal now, Enjoy the new chapter, there is slight smut in it, nothing much but I assure you it gets better, so bare with me. 
> 
> \- BeckyLClose

“Thank god for cold showers.” I muttered to myself, towel drying my freshly washed hair; rubbing with generous ferocity until it fuzzed up and I slicked it back with my palm. Endless, mindless chatter coming from the muted ear piece resting on the bathroom counter; even just across state lines Sam and Dean felt the need to imbibe in a movie with me.

I dressed myself in one of Dean’s overly large ACDC t shirts and a pair of his clean boxers; this was a thing that usually went down when both brothers left me alone in the bunker, a habit left unbroken since we were children.

I clicked the ear piece back into its hold within my flesh, hearing breathing and generous slurping of Dean and a bottle of ice cold beer. I cringed at the sound. “Ugh, you and that bottle get a room – last thing I need is mental images of that.”

A heart chuckle sounded into my ear; Sam. “So – uh what are you watching tonight?”

“What’s left of The Two Towers – It’s been demanding my attention.”

My damp are feet padded through the cold corridors and marbled floors; leaving behind a warmed footprint. The sound of a pre-recorded audience laughter rang through my ears as I could only assume Dean was channel surfing through basic cable. “Nothin’ on.” I heard him grumble toward Sam with a soft sigh; leaving it on a football game in the later stages.  
The crowd roared with excited of a near-miss goal soon followed by a droned sigh.

“At least now I don’t need a stupid amount of toast to stuff Dean’s face with.” I spoke with a sigh; hinting my sarcasm. A tittered laugh that I could only guess was Sam, shadowed by a choking cough from Dean.

“Don’t even star….”

“Yeah it’s quiet for a change – I miss you both and your boyish ways.” I spoke quite literally leaping onto the couch, splaying out again and unpausing Lord of the Rings for a second time; my free hand reaching out the take the huge bowl of popcorn whilst my eyes were glued to the brightly lit screen.

“We miss you too, Y/N” Sam’s silky voice verbalized into my ear.

“Oh guys, enough with the chick flick stuff - You’re gonna make me puke.”

“Puke away buddy.” I teased, shovelling buttery popcorn into my mouth.

\-----------------

My dreams were filled with the enticing scents of Crowley’s top of the range cologne; heavily woody and slightly floral with a pinch of spice. The true scent of sophistication and pride. His deeply mellow voice gritting through my ears as though riding on a silk magic carpet.

It was an unfair advantage he had, his whole demeanour was one carved to seduce with confident smirks and a bold tongue, my mind was being tugged and pulled continuously. I wanted to hate him – no – I needed to hate him, with every fibre of my being I needed to fucking hate the ground he walked on, but – I couldn’t. His magnetism, brutality, coarseness and cold-heartedness was everything that I lacked; the missing corner pieces to an oversized puzzle. Out of everything: my brothers, nerdy movies, yellowed candle-lit parchment and the ticking copper clock, the king of hell was my one true weak spot.

I awoke with a snap; my eye lids bursting open, pulses of retina piercing light tingling behind my eyes. The loud thud of a case file dropped onto the table without a being there to procure it. The woody scent whirled past me; a mellow breeze to signify Crowley’s split second presence.

The folder was a gnarly shade of brown, used brown, sat in too much sunlight brown. That wasn’t the only thing nasty about this case file, it was huge!  
Stacked with papers all of them completely identical.

Wait a minute…

Completely identical. – Completely fucking identical.

My delicate hands flipped the front cover revealing the stack to my naked eye. Each a formal letter or contract of some kind.

Contract’s – Deal’s

“Deal’s left unsorted – He wants me to do uh - office administration?”

My index finger floated through the papers, eyeing each one with an eagle’s eye. If I was going to be honest, I felt slightly insulted, sorting through paperwork was too easy. “Load of bullshit.” I whispered harshly, pushing aside the stack to the furthest end of the coffee table.

\-------------

The papers gawked at me the whole of the brother’s hunt – they sat there demanding urgent attention for hours while I walked Sam and Dean through possible routes to end this allusive shape shifter; haunting me until finally, I gave in.

Sam and Dean had finally track down this jealous son of a bitch, ganking his ass with the blunt end of a silverware knife.  
“We’re gonna take a break at the motel before heading back.” Dean growled into the microphone; his voice hoarse and somewhat blood-soaked from adrenaline. “You alright holdin’ up for another night?” He added with a much mellower tone.

I nodded to myself, right in the middle of sorting out Crowley’s vast amount of unsorted paperwork. “Yeah, no problem – I’ll go on a food run before you guys get back, make sure we have enough to sustain your endless stomachs.” The ticking alarm clock started to pound away inside my head. 

“Be careful Y/N.” Dean spoke with a stern tone to his voice.

“I will brother.” I replied, palming my forehead as a thumping headache took over.

\-------------

Food shopping wasn’t so bad, the grocery stores this time of night were almost empty, maybe the odd drunken man or elderly woman picking up treats for mittens; her cat. On occasion you’d get the large family with a binder of coupons, screaming kids running up and down the aisles; tugging mummy and daddy’s pants for stupid amounts of red Kool Aid or some other sort of sugary soda, just a normal life.

A normal life was far from what I and the boys had from John. Although I couldn’t complain at least I was alive, at least he took me in when he did. Sure, Sam, Dean and I grew up with guns and knives instead of Barbie dolls and Hot Wheelz but we were strong, knowledgeable and all the more ruthless.

 

The blue Camaro gleamed underneath the orange coloured street lights; sheening with cosmic sparkle as I made my way toward the shopping carts. The recently scribbled shopping list had the basic things on it; beer, pie crust, vegetables and fruit for Sam and the rest of general junk food that Dean somehow lived off.

The shopping cart squeaked and squealed under the tiny amount of pressure I pressed into it, pushing it along the pure white tiled floors; heading toward the bakery section. The scent of freshly baked beard was incredible; soft, homely smell that left me pining for a warm French roll smothered in glorious butter. I quickly grabbed two loaves of bread, one white and one brown; accustom to each brothers tastes. The rest of the shop was easy, a few kilos of burger patties, all American hotdogs, buns, frozen pizzas, ice cream, soda and lastly Sam’s fruit and vegetables.

Restless children rallied around me, screaming and giggling; their little bodies infused with an overload of sugary snacks. Their little limbs brushing carelessly against my legs as they flailed past me, nudging and pushing just enough for one of Sam’s brightly coloured red apples to fall from my grip; although it never did touch the ground. 

A silent mind suddenly appeared within my vision as my body had instinctively dropped to catch the rosy fruit.

“An apple a day keeps the demon away.” Came a sultry voice from above; his voice. 

I stood with caution, my eyes travelling from pristinely polished shoes and crisp black slacks only to take in the form of the king. His mouth pulled into a wicked smirk; the red apple twisting within his callous hand, just like the old hag from snow white; I mean he kinda fit the profile. 

My head turned and tossed from side to side, my eyes landing back on his with a fierce glare. “What the hell are you doing here?!” I shouted, hushing my aggravated tone as best I could. Crowley seemed somewhat offended, his face blank and hazel orbs as wide as the moon with calculated slowness he plucked the apple from his palm by the stem and lowered it into my grasp.

“What? – Am I not allowed check in with my favourite human?”

“Carrier pigeons, Crowley.” I spoke with a hesitant tongue, pushing my shopping cart around the demon king who nipped his bottom lip between his teeth at my actions; swivelling on the balls of his feet. He wanted to talk but whatever he was thinking was blind to my mind.

A pair of heavy shoes echoed behind me; the chase between hare and fox, for a brief second his mind was so clear like glass crystals in the soft spring sun. I shook my head as I pushed the cart, stopping every now and then to add an item to the metal crate. 

“The work you assigned me to is an insult to my intelligence.” I muttered, never staring at his physical presence behind me while my eyes scanned the shelf for canned beans and spaghetti hoops.

“Just a test I assure you.” My eyes widened to his belittling tone; my retina’s current focus zooming in on the ingredients label of the can within my hands. I swivelled round on the tips of my toes, throwing the can into the shopping cart. My voice was low, eyes calculating as I peered into Crowley’s very being. 

“And I can assure you there was no need for a test – I was trained by John Winchester and his sons...” My low pitch evolved into a hummed growl, taking precious steps toward the clad in black demon. Crowley raised his hands as though singing for surrender. 

“...And it so happens that the best of the best in the hunting world, is grocery shopping for canned beans and instant noodles at – five minutes past one in the morning?” Crowley’s tone was hushed as he briefly checked his wrist, questioning none the less. His hazel eyes narrowing at my movements toward a kilo bag of instant noodles – chicken flavour. My eyes scoured down to the crinkling, translucent bag; delicate fingers weighing the contents, gluten filled, sodium laced, white pasta.

Crowley’s simple sentence had seemed to hit something sensitive inside my being; the flick of a switch that bought fire behind my eyes and a clenching fist. I knew exactly what he meant, but hearing him say it would be the headlining paper. “You have a problem with me grocery shopping for the boys? – Since when did you fucking care?” I grumbled the latter sentence, tossing the uncooked pasta into the cart and moved on; his polished shoes following closely behind or to my side.

“I didn’t – but you could do better…” He stifled breath through thin lips, trying desperately to keep up with my pace, He was silent for a second before his large palm reached out and took my shoulder in his heavy grasp, halting me and pivoting me to face him, I rolled my eyes. 

“You…” He breathed, lowering his hand from my shoulder, closing the gap slightly between us. There was no denying the spark of chemistry that flashed amid our physical bodies. “Me?” I questioned softly, my heart beginning to pump harder sending tingling pulses around my body.

“You – You hide inside that marbled prison, researching, planning – grocery shopping for instance – You could be so much more.”

“What if I like the ordinary, mind numbing rainy days and stacks of nostalgic research?”

“No – I don’t believe it, you’re a rough little thing.” He muttered deeply, taking yet another step toward me, closing the ever contracting gap. Crowley’s velvet voice shock waved around my body, tingling, lights sparking behind my eyes, heat flushing my prickled skin.

He lifted his palm, trailing his roughness down my soft cheek, his fingertips were scratching, burning paths down my sensitive flesh. “Greatness isn’t for everyone.” I whispered up to him, his mind flickering in an instant.

“Greatness is for those who chose to chase it to the ends of the world.” He murmured lowly, lowering his head to initiate a fierce kiss. My hands walked up his black suit; hellish heat radiating from his chest as I pushed him back lightly. He sighed heavily, stepping back with hesitance. I bit my bottom lip, staring up at his lust filled orbs. “No one likes a tease.” He commented with pure frustration.

I tilted my head, contemplating my next actions. In the middle of a grocery store wasn’t exactly ideal location for a quick fuck, that and I hadn’t finished the boy’s food requirements...

“Just – uh not here – not in public.” I blurted out without even thinking about the exact words that toppled from my lips. Crowley’s eyebrows raised, a single hand lifting to eyelevel. “Deal.”

 

It was motion sickness, stomach churning hell ride as the word around us dissolved and the lived in habitat of the Bunker reappeared. I twisted on the balls of my feet, taking in my new – but familiar surroundings. Crowley’s intoxicating scent was stronger than ever, enticing but not enough for me to lose complete control.

“Wait – what about the grocerie…”

“Already taken care of.” His smug features tilted toward the breakfast table with stacks of white plastic bags covering and surrounding it. “Enough food to tide you and the hardy boys over for a few weeks.”

He was holding back, trying so desperately to keep his lust under control, his heat and feral eyes undressing me, his gaze entirely scrutinizing.

My heart leapt inside my chest, jolting and hammering as he closed the gap once more, his brimstone warmth radiating toward me. Literal words were no more as he cupped my face; fingers digging into the back of my neck.

“Do what you want with my body, Crowley.” I purred; lust and need dripping from my lips.

Hot, whisky scent breath washed over my face, a deep, guttural growl rumbled inside his torso to my lust filled words.

In a split second all the contractual papers that I had filed earlier were floating down to the stone floor; Crowley’s arm pushing them out of the way without thought, clearing a space on my table. My naked body slammed down onto the rosewood finish, needy whimpers and shallow moans escaping my throat as he kneaded my fleshy ribcage and hipbones; circling his rough, callous thumbs into my soft skin. “Such a pure little thing.” He caressed my sides, traveling up to my doughy mounds, fingers lingering in the valley between my breasts, his chapped lips glided over my supple skin, echoed by his rough palms.

“Surrender yourself to me, love.” His hot fingers travelled down my body; arching under his touch, growled eliciting from his throat as he came to the apex of my thighs. “Gorgeous.” He murmured delightfully. Crowley's finger tips travelled down to where I demanded attention - slowly his gentle, hot pressure was gone; fingers tugging at his belt buckle and zipper as I writhed underneath him. I nibbled a single finger into my mouth, watching as he undressed himself; his heated, flamed eyes never left mine. Growls dripped from his lips and thundered inside his chest as hunter and demon glared toward one another; lust and undeniable chemestry twisting and infusing with each second we acted on our desires.

His hot body covered mine, enveloping my form with his completely. His fingers entangling in my hair only to tug my head to the side and bite into my pulse point. His hips snapping up into my slick entrance; throaty screams and pleasured groans from the both of us. Two bodies writhing in a mass of skin, sex and demonic lust. Feral wants and primal needs. Gripping fingers and biting, nipping teeth, his beard scratching the most sensitive parts of myself, sweat dripping from his brow as his hard thrusts became erratic and sloppy.

“I can feel you tightening – let go for me.” He growled heavily into my ear. With one more thrust furious lights sparked behind my eyes. I tightened around him, clenching, and cumming shamelessly over his impressive length.

He groaned harshly in response, stilling deep inside my body emptying his load while his cheek rested in the crook of my neck. Our breathing was in total unison, heavy, hard and strained. His heated breath ghosted over my slick body as he pulled up to stare into my eyes, shifting inside my velvet walls; a whimper escaping my lips to his subtle actions.

No words were needed as fireworks burst between us, an intoxicating chemical reaction, in which resulted in his lips moulding passionately into mine.

I gave into him.


	7. The Copper Clock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit of a "filler" in my words, although it is the chapter with probably the most relevance to the plot and storyline.
> 
> The copper clock/timer/alarm is probably the main character in the whole story believe it or not, Focus will now be around that seemingly insignificant object.
> 
> Vampires have a lot to do with this story too, hence I bring them back every other chapter or so.
> 
> There is a little ReaderxCrowley fluff at the end which brings a whole new bond to their "Relationship."
> 
> So enjoy!

Kissing, it sparks a chemical reaction within the brain a release of fresh and highly adrenaline fuelled Oxytocin; better known as ‘the love hormone’. Everything can ride on a simple peck to another’s lips as kissing is the primal mechanism for mate assessment. A bad kiss can result in the so called relationship breaking down and both parties turning their backs without a second thought. Whereas a good kiss could result in an explosion of chemistry within the human brain.

An explosion was exactly what happened within my mind, rushing blood, pumping hearts and slick, sweating skin. A tangle of two spent bodies, rolled up in white linen sheets, breathing heavily into the cotton like fabric. A throbbing soreness and emptiness between my thighs. Crowley had been true to his legendary name, rough, ruthless but not less than a lover. He ensured my cardinal sins and pleasures. His sated body draped over mine, hot breath ghosting over my left shoulder, nuzzling his fuzzy cheek into my neck.

“I knew you were a dark horse.” He breathed; eyes closed, fingertips latched into the doughy skin around my hips. I opened my exhausted eyes to glance upon his rugged features “And you’re still insufferable.” I poked back with a light whisper unable to breath normally with his lingering, tingling pleasures pulsating around my body. 

He chuckled darkly, lifting himself from between my legs, pulling his semi hard dick from my throbbing entrance, I winced as he flopped next to me completely and utterly spent.

“That’s not what you said a while ago – screaming out my name, proclaiming your lustful desire for said king of hell.” He gestured toward himself before his arms tangled underneath the back of his head. Pride taking over his yearning mind. I rolled my eyes, shifting the aching between my legs to the side, rolling over to… 

He was gone from the other side of my bed, although still within the room as my eyes caught a glimpse of his black suit and trench coat – He was dressed again - just like nothing had happened.

The roaring of the sheening black Impala rang out within my mind - just a few miles away.

“The hardy boys are on their return…” He spoke lowly, deep and gravelled as he stared down at my white sheet covered body. I nodded once, stretching out my arm in gesture toward the door. 

“I get it – means you gotta run.” I kept my tone blank, my expression unidentifiable, there was no need to add complicated pesky emotions or feelings into this – ‘fuck buddy’ relationship.

He nodded once, his thin lips forming into a smug smile; thumb and forefinger ready to strike. “You’ll see me again, love.”

\--------------------

Not long after Crowley had disappeared I had taken a shower; rinsing off the sex infused sweat that lingered. Crowley’s cologne imbedded in the flesh around my jaw and neck, teeth marks imprinted above my pulse point. It had been a ‘hell’ of a night if you would excuse the pun. I didn’t get wink of sleep; succumbing to my own desires; tossed within the throws of ruthless demonic lust.

 

“We’re home!” The rasping sound of Dean’s voice echoed within the corridors of the marbled palace. Whispered chatter not meant for my ears whirled around inside Dean’s head; something about a double bacon cheeseburger and house fries. Sam’s stomach rumbling to the thought of peperoni pizza and an ice cold beer.

I slipped a clean black shirt over my head, followed by a blue, purple and black flannel and light blue jeans. I rushed out as fast as I could, trying desperately to ignore the sore throbbing between my legs. 

The stench of my brothers was the first thing to hit me, a mixture of old sweat, sickly blood and gun powder. Even if they did smell like the back end of a sewer it didn’t stop me from jumping into their arms. A fierce smile tugged into Dean’s red lips; throwing his heavy duffle bag aside then waiting openly. 

A low chuckle came from Sam’s chest as he watched me practically throw myself into Dean’s embrace. Dean lifted me up effortlessly, holding my body to his in a loving hug only to place me delicately back onto my feet. “We’re getting too old for this.” He spoke softly, flinching away slightly as I went to playfully punch the top of his shoulder.

“Couldn’t have finished the case without you.” Sam beamed toward me, gingerly hold out his arms for a hug to match his brothers. I smiled up at the looming giant, shuffling my way toward him, wrapping my arms around his taut torso. I shrugged “What can I say? Sometimes you guys need a little help.” I teased, pulling away from his hold.

\----------------------------

I was in the kitchen, unpacking the shopping that Crowley had so generously provided. There was more here than what we actually needed but who am I to complain about free food?

“We were thinking about heading out for a burger…” Dean mumbled through the cotton towel that enveloped his head; rubbing and kneading the material into his scalp.

“You were thinking it.” I corrected, turning on the balls of my feet to give him a cheeky sideways smile. Dean stood nervously, a sweet little grin tugging into his lips.

“I’m game.” I reassured him, sliding a can of brine hotdogs onto the counter. “We can talk about the case – Oh and I may have a lead on that Alpha vampire we were tracking.” I said matter of factly.

Dean was silent for a minute, nodding his head to the good news that slipped from my lips. They had been tracking this Alpha for months, the allusive son of a bitch kept dodging their bullets only to reappear across state or even country borders. In that sense it was almost impossible to hunt him down as the Impala wouldn’t ride through security check points with an arsenal of weapons in the trunk and three persons with blades, salt and dead mans blood hidden within their clothes.

“What about Crowley?” Dean’s raspy voice travelled toward me like a tidal wave; washing away my happy go lucky mood.

My breath hitched slightly, a tightening in my chest to his name, a flush under my skin, white hot tingling. I bit the inside of my cheek, eyeing up the canned beans that lay inside the plastic bag. “What about him?” I asked although I knew the answer.

“Y’know – Any leads on him, the faster we find the bastard the quicker we can end all this.”

I fought back a torrent of guilt; lying again. “Uh – No I’ve searched but – there’s nothing.” I emptied the bag of canned goods, stacking them one after another. “To be honest, it’s been pretty quiet on the demon front, no omens, cattle deaths, freak storms – no unexplained odours.”

“Right well – We still need…”

“I know I know – but Dean I’m trying to best, if I knew anything I’d tell you and Sam – but I don’t…”

\-----------------------------

“So in the end Sam distracted him with some negotiating talk and I came up behind the shifter and stabbed him in the back.”

“With the blunt end?”

“With the blunt end.”

I raised my eyebrows to Dean’s brutal story telling while he stuffed his face with French fries dunked in red sauce. All of us were dining at a 1950’s styled trailer diner, chrome shell and red neon lights. The bittersweet scent of coffee roaming through the air.

“The dude was alive then, I guess he gets to play happier families now.” I spoke softly poking around both of their heads for information about the case or anything that they neglected to mention.

“Yeah I say so – Might need a family therapist for the rest of his life.”

“At least he’s alive – He’s lucky…” Dean nudged my side lightly. A new mind entering my head space. The waitress leaned over our table a jug of hot black coffee, filling each one of our mugs. She smiled her white teeth before tip toeing off to the next table.

I sighed lightly, picking up the coffee and bringing it to my lips trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. “The Alpha vamp just outside of Denver a little place called Golden Gate Canyon Park.”

Sam brow furrowed, twisting his stubbled features toward me; wiping his grease covered lips with a napkin. “I’ve heard of that place – It’s in the middle of no-where.”

I wagged my finger, swallowing the delicious brew; lowering my mug with a clink. “You’d think that but there are tourists this time of year, everyone is heading out to camp, whether that be in a lodge, cabin, RV or tent who really gives a shit?”

Dean raised a single eyebrow to my little rant.

“Point is there are going to be a lot of fresh meat up here and it’s perfect in the middle of nowhere, no-one can hear them scream.”

“So the Alpha vamp is – camping in Colorado State?” Dean questioned with a hint of sarcasm to his voice. I revolved my head to the side, nodding a few times. “If you wonna look at it that way then – Yes.”

 

\----------------------

We sat in the diner booth for what seemed like hours, knocking back coffee and extra portions of house fries and potato skins covered in cheese and bacon bits. The night was smooth, relaxed and full of happy laughter amongst the playful punches and breathy whispers. My head lightly resting on Dean’s shoulder; both of us staring blankly at Sam, every now and then shoving a French fry to each-others lips while the youngest brother told the shifter story again from his perspective. Dean’s shoulder was like a well fluffed pillow, not too soft but not too hard either, his homely scent of cheap original old spice and whisky tainted clothes soothing my senses; literally shoving this whole Crowley chaos to the back of my mind.

\----------------

Outside the diner within the darkened edge of the vast woodland stood the demon that plagued my mind as jealously plagued his. With narrowed eyes his chin rose along with his heated breath in the cold air; cooling ice crystals floating within the atmosphere. His large hands dove into his black trench coat pockets, a low dangerous growl humming within his chest.

 

His inner voice reverberated within my skull, my eyes burst open to the grit of his velvet tongue, a simple single word meant for me to hear. “Mine.”

\----------------

Research was bearing its heavy burden, weighing me down like literal led bricks strapped to my torso. It was on these few occasions that I would still work while my copper alarm clock rung out; jittering against the rosewood table. The noise would wash over my head, not even realising until a large, taut palm would take my shoulder within its grasp; kneading my skin underneath my clothing. 

“I think that’s enough research for one night.” Sam lulled softly into my ear, his free palm tapping the sensitive button on top of the clock. “I’m not done.” I groaned with a sigh, flopping my hand around the table only to initiate the ticking once more.

A deep sigh whirled against my hair, a scuffing coming from the side of me. Sam had pulled out the nearest chair, lowering his huge body onto the wooden seat. “You need to sleep.” He fought with a charmed tongue, eyeing up the written notes that I had scribbled on various pieces of paper. A silence overcame us, Sam’s hazel eyes scanning each bit of written parchment and dust layered book; the ball of my pen gliding across crisp white paper. Sam knew better than to push and poke like Dean would. 

“C’mon, when do you ever miss a movie with Harrison Ford in it?” Sam chirped softly, a sweet smile tugging into his lips until his pure white teeth were visible. My wrist dropped to the table; all writing ceasing. My head revolved around to stare at Sam with exhausted eyes; his smile was a breath of fresh, cold air to my lungs. He knew exactly what to say to make me smile. 

“Harrison Ford you say?”

“Hans Solo himself.”

“You, Winchester have a deal.” I slammed my book shut; lidding my fountain pen and neatly shuffling my papers before standing. 

\----------------

Sam and I walked side by side through the marbled walls and passageways, taking our time with whispers and murmurs.

“After all these years you still use that alarm clock.” Sam whispered with a smile, his thoughts were sweet, wondering why of all things I kept that ghastly looking, dully copper timer at my side with every research session. I returned his goofy grin.

“You’re dad gave it to me, don’t you remember?” I asked confidently, Sam shook his head; hair splaying from side to side as he glanced down to me. “Can’t say I do.”

“Figures - You and Dean were always too busy duo hunting out of state – Some sorta low ranking vamp or ancient Djinn.” I commented with a low tone. Our feet scuffing toward the entrance way to the ‘living room’ or the room we all seemed to fall asleep in – Might as well have called it the sleeping room.

Sam was the first to enter while I tip toed into the doorway only to see Dean perched on the edge with a bowl of popcorn in his lap and soda on the coffee table. 

“I thought the idea of Hans Solo would tear you away from the mind numbing research.” Dean plucked up the blanket, covering himself but leaving one side open for me to snuggle into.

“What’s to say I love mind numbing research more than Hans Solo?”

“Well it’d make you a liar.” He jested.

He gave a smile in my direction; head and eyes jutting down to the soft blanket; a warming invitation I couldn’t resist.

 

\---------------------

September 3rd 1999.

 

The rough tearing of a jagged knife on cardboard sounded behind me, the cutting of tape and unwrapping of a foam like material. A ding and a clank; padded fingertips on cold metal. A vision appearing through my closed lids.

“Y/N, I want you to tell me what I have in my hand.” John asked calmly, holding the supposed insignificant object within his over worked palms; caressing the smooth metal with warmed fingers. Prints contaminating the pristine copper.

I breathed evenly, zoning in on John’s dark and haunting mind. A mind filled with nothing but hate for the yellow eyed demon that kills Sam and Dean’s mother. I pushed the tainted memories aside like coats hanging on a railing. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat; eyes sealed tight as I came to the image of a yellowy, brown blur – an inaudible padding evident within the background. I frowned unable to make out the object.

“I uh – It’s got a funny colour to it, I can’t – I can’t make it out, John.”

“Yes you can – Think harder, connect with me, Y/N.”

I strained my senses. A throbbing behind my eyes. My inner ear listening intensely to John’s whirlwind of thoughts all rushing past me; like cars shooting down a busy highway – The image became clearer, clear enough to see…

“It’s a – a clock – a copper clock.” I breathed with childish excitement; a smile growing, forming in my lips. I lowered my guard and abilities to zero in fear of a mind spitting headache.

John’s calloused fingers slid over the sensitive button, pushing it lightly to start the ticking timer; a calming pulse of oiled cogs and intricate puzzle pieces. My eyes burst open; stinging motel room light broke into my retinas without warning. I swivelled in my seat; elbow over the back of my wooden chair. John held the shiny clock within his grasp, the ticking rhythm buzzing throughout my mind. Our eyes locked instantly.

“This will help you with your research, it will give you limitations. Ywill be able to time yourself to improve your ability.” He held out the gleaming clock to me; my fingers brushed against the cold metal element, twisting around the timer’s body only to hold it in front of my face to inspect its perfect craftsmanship. 

“Thank you.” I whispered softly toward the man I called father.

He said nothing, silence speaking a worlds worth of chatter. Instead he stepped forward, planting a tender kiss to the top of my head.

 

\---------------------

Present day.

 

“Y/N! – I’m making coffee…”

“Yes please!” I called back before Dean could finish his sentence; my fingers brushing through the stacks of stick it notes and scribbled doodles that was until his scent rushed into my bloodstream. I sniffed the bunkers air, inhaling his toxic cologne and sulphurous undertone. I revolved my head from side to side, leaning into the table so I could get a better view down to the oaken doors and main entrance. My brow contorted, chin tilting to the side. “Crowley?” I whispered, turning on the balls of my feet to take in my surroundings; bewildered and in search for the clad in black demon king.

“Crowley?” Dean questioned with a raised eyebrow; two mugs of coffee in his rough hands. My breathing stopped for a brief second as I shifted toward my eldest brother with pure horror plastering my features. I shrugged a single shoulder. “Uh yeah – Just pissed off we can’t find the bastard.” I lied through my teeth; stuttering.

“Hmm, you and me both.” Dean spoke without suspicion; placing both mugs on the table. While out of sight I closed my eyes, clenching my jaw. 

Dean seated himself at the table opposite me, my tense form lowering to the chair I had been sitting at last night. The scent of buttery toast filled the air, crunching, chewing, slapping of lips. I swallowed hard; still able to smell Crowley’s scent.

“You look tense.” Dean commented through munching his toast.

“W – What?”

“You look tense.” He repeated with a deeper voice. I shook my head with a breathy laugh, trying to shake off the sudden flutter within my heart.

“Tense? – No – no I’m alright, just remembered a nightmare from last night…”

I squealed nearing the end of my sentence, the spitting image of Crowley stood behind Dean, a smirk tugging into his thin lips, hands enveloped inside his pockets.

Dean’s eyes burst open, turning instantly to stare behind himself only to see – nothing. With articulated slowness Dean swivelled back frowning toward me. “You sure you’re alright?” He asked with grit in his voice.

“I uh – I need to vent – uh Fuck it, I’m coming on the hunt with you.”

 

\------------------

“You – you’re coming on the Alpha hunt?” Dean pressed with bemusement as he leaned against my bedroom doorframe, watching as I threw shirts and flannels into an old duffle bag.

“Yeah, another pair of hands as well as my abilities…” I said under my breath, stuttering as I went.

“Y/N, You know what happened last time…”

I halted immediately, an aggravated sigh escaping my lips as I threw the last flannel into the bag with accurate sharpness; turning on the balls of my feet to meet my brothers daze.

“It’s true I get a rush from the hunt but you seriously think I’d ever go near that stuff again? let alone put it in my veins? – I just need to vent, that’s all.” My hands slapped my outer thighs as Dean gave me his best poker face.

“I’m just worried – So is Sam – You haven’t been on a hunt for nearly six years, last thing we want is you to relapse.”

“I know.” I breathed, calming myself to the core. I was sure to keep unbreakable eye contact with Dean. “But trust me, if things get bad I’ll go back to baby, walk you guys through it.” We stood in silence; Dean making the first move of unravelling his arms from a crossed position and in the process of nodding his head. “Okay – Make sure you’ve packed everything – It’s an in and out job so we’ll be driving, killing, driving, home. – No questions asked.”

I nodded a few times to Dean’s stern voice; almost sounding like orders. Dean was a different person on a hunt compared to the lovable, teddy bear like brother I had come accustom to. He was fierce, strict and downright dark when he wanted to be.

My delicate hands slid into the back of my jeans pockets, taking in a deep breath, pivoting on my toes; impatience. “Right – I’ll meet you and Sam by baby.” I gave him the same cold tongue; knowing by doing so the hunt would move a lot smoother.

 

\-----------------

It had been a long time since I had sat in the back of the impressive Impala on a hunt; adrenaline coursing through my veins. The ride was worse – but in a good way. The brother’s minds and thoughts were filled with nothing but the hunt, the kill, the bloodthirsty and raw hunger to catch this Alpha vampire before he decided to turn everyone in Golden Gate Canyon Park into filthy bloodsuckers. Shivers and goose bumps broke out all over my arms, the electricity of the chase totally captivating and thrilling. The element of lethal danger sparked whites behind my eyes, a fierce rush that longed to be sated.

In saying all this, when we arrived at the park it was truly one of a kind, utterly beautiful this time of year, bright green leaves rustling in the warm breeze, flecks of yellow and reds in the form of uncultivated wild flowers. The scent of nature all around. Loon’s cooing on the nearby lake and twittering sparrows in the thick branches in the top of the woodland canopy. A cool stream running peacefully beside the steel black stallion, making it’s never ending journey that would eventually run into the sea.

It had been forever since I had been this far out in the sticks, the hard gravel underneath the soles of my shoes; crackling with pressure. I stared around at this beautiful place, finding it somehow hard to believe that a mass of vampires were nearby, in the local woodland about to cull at entire camp for food or a mass produced army.

 

“It’s hard to come to terms with huh?” Sam wandered next to me, hands in jacket pockets while we stared out onto the setting lake. I breathed heavily, not answering but also not appearing silent. “I don’t know what’s worse.” I spoke with utter stillness.

Sam flipped his chin down to me in an instant, my eyes moving up to his, fishing information from his mind. “Either way the Alpha gets what he wants, no matter what setting he’s in – He’s smart though…”

“Yeah he is – too smart if you ask me.”

“He knows he’s in seclusion around here – It’s peaceful and there are tourists, he quenches his thirst and moves on, no one suspects a thing.” The water rippled below us, lapping up the bank side with relaxing motions; loons echoing in the background of our story.

“Yeah but guess what?” Dean called from behind us, a smirk gleaming within his emerald eyes as Sam and I turned. “We’re smarter.”

\--------------------

“So you see a vamp? – what do you do?” Sam asked me softly, clutching a machete to his side. I motioned a slice to the neck with sound effects included. “Look I may be rusty but I haven’t forgotten what you both taught me.” 

Sam flipped the machete in his palm, greeting me with the handle, I took the blade slowly, revelling in its weight and the power it gave me in a quick second. My fingers flexed around the wooden handgrip; pinching ever so gently into the slightly spongey material. With a deep, oxygen producing sigh I flipped the blade to rest underneath my armpit; holding it snug against my body. 

“If we all split up it’ll be easier to find their safe house – so you’ll still have to wear your ear pieces.” I spoke calmly, pulling the three wireless headsets from the back of my jeans pocket only to be abruptly halted by Dean; a deep frown furrowing his brow.

“Whoa – who said anything about splitting up? That’s a death wish for you – No you stick with me.” I turned on the balls of my feet to glare up at my big brother; his eyes piercing my own with complete dominance. 

“Dean, if we split up we’ve got a better and faster chance of finding the hive – besides its day time and sunny, no way they’ll be awake even if one of us does find it.” I argued back standing my ground; my right hand holding out an ear piece to him.

“Are you in or out?” I asked with a stern tone; demanding he take the piece.

\--------------------

We knew the hive was here somewhere, but where was a different matter. Dean had accepted the ear piece finally after some hefty arguing; Sam leaning against the trunk of the Impala, sharpening his blade while Dean and I figured out our differences. We had all trekked through the thick woodland, reaching some sort of middle point where neither of us could see the road through pine branches and berry bushes.

We each went our separate ways, Dean heading north, Sam heading east and lastly myself heading west. The eerie pitter patter against rustling leaves could be heard as we slowly walked away from each other growing ever more silent the further we became.

My heart started to race; flushing my system with fresh, adrenaline fuelled blood at the prospect of a lone hunt and stealthy kill. The ruthless hunter inside myself ravaged the nerdy book worm in no time; my pupils dilating, exterior senses becoming ever more acute. In a state like this I could hear a pin drop, I could see clearer. The natural, primal behaviour of the human being making itself present, the hunt was the game, the goal was survival and check points in between whispered of a monster massacre.

It had been a few hours without signs of any hive or vampire scouts. Still I droned through the darkening forest, my feet becoming heavy, the feral feeling I had at the beginning drained. My heart was now not racing for the kill but racing for fear; the sun setting within the canopy. In just half an hour I would be in the vampire’s domain, Darkness.

“Y/N, Sam and I are heading back to regroup – I suggest you do the same” Came Dean’s rough voice into my fragile ear. I nodded once to myself, shivering from both fear and the cold. “I’m on my way.”

“No, you’re not.” Purred a light whispered tone from behind, a voice I didn’t recognise but a mind full with thoughts of hunger and fresh blood. I turned on my toes to see a slim, trashy dressed woman, long flowing red hair down past her breasts, a smirk on her face that rivalled most demons. I brandished my weapon to her; stanced for imminent attack.

A second mind entered my headspace before I could react; a heated hand reached toward my ear, picking the piece out effortlessly and throwing it behind himself with a light thud against fallen leaves. I breathed heavily, the corners of my eyes revolving to both bloodsuckers as best I could. The female closed in on me, trapesing her shoes among the dirt.

“What’s a sweet little huntress like you doing all the way out here?” She lulled seductively, nibbling and biting her painted red lips. I turned my body with her as she circled me; her icy blue orbs wandering up and down my body. I pushed into her mind. “What’s it look like? – You already know the answer, why do you feel the need to ask?”

She pierced me with her cold glare through thick black lashes; swatting her blonde hair back. “You’re smart.” She commented.

“Oh, I’m much more than that.” I grinned devilishly, twisting my body with hers. “Your Alpha isn’t far from here, about another ten minutes’ walk if I were to carry on – You were sent to end me, I was getting too close – He’s running scared.”

Her cold fingers were round my throat in an instant, squeezing, her long nails digging and pinching into my marked flesh. The second pair of hands soon hit the blade from my grip, a dark chuckle rumbling through my chest; teeth gleaming.

Her nose trailed my jawline, hovering over my pulse point only to lick the sensitive skin that covered it. She moaned with delight at the taste of my salted flesh.

“Smart ones get to live a new life.” She purred softly into my ear.

 

It all collapsed in a split second, the icy vampires head severed from her shoulders, rolling and dropping to the ground with a hard, kind of mushy thud. My eyes widened; warm blood splattered my face and neck. My intake of breath was hard, rushed as I still like a statue only to watch the other male vampire being throw as if by magic, pinned down and his head torn from his twitching body.

My eyes neglected to process the black coated demon that now stood in front of me, holding my very weapon within his palm; tiny blood droplets at his lips, within his beard and specks on his clothes. He ambled over her corpse, kicking it aside like it was nothing more than an old toy or piece of ruined clothing.

“Look at me.” Crowley demanded, another loud clatter as the blade hit the ground. His palms cupped my cheeks, urging me to stare within his honeyed, hazel orbs. He breathed in gently, never losing contact. “Good – now listen.” I nodded once to his demand; rough palms rubbing against my soft cheeks.

“You are not cut out to be a hunter.” He said simply; his words were harsh but – at least they were the truth. I nodded again, unable to speak through shock.

Crowley torn his gaze to the tiny puncture wounds at the back of my neck; the female vampires nails had dug in. The demon’s fingers shifted, wiping the blood from my skin, he sighed, stepping back to rummage within his suit pockets, pulling out a crystal white cloth with an embroidered letter C in the corner.

With a delicate hand he cleaned the small wounds; wiping the blood away. Then moving to my face, brushing the vampire rust from my cheeks. 

“Thank you.” I whispered softly, just loud enough for Crowley to hear it.

He halted his actions; lowering the hand and hanky that was ridding my face of blood. The way he stared at me – it was odd. It was like he had never been thanked for anything before.

“You’re welcome.” He said after a few seconds; his eyes smouldering as they stared.

He was the first to break the intense glance, bending down to retrieve the blade from the dirt. With careful fingers he pried my palm open; enclosing my fingers around the handle.

“You did it – I was never here.” He warned – Crowley’s thoughts were reassuring to say the least, one thing in particular looping within his mind. ‘You’ll see me again, love.’

I nodded to Crowley’s request, repeating his spoken words back to him.

“I did it – You were never here.”


	8. Desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut :)

The headlining Alpha vampire hunt quickly got sucked down the drain along with all the entrails and case notes that corresponded to the event. The hunt was a bust after my encounter with two of the fledglings; word spreading like wildfire to the big boss. The Alpha fled along with any of his kin once the legendary name of the Winchesters rolled his way.

Crowley’s harsh but true words rung out inside my head, repeating over and over like some wicked game. ‘You’re not cut out to be a hunter.’  
There was no denying that he was correct with his stated sentence. Even while I was a child; growing up with both brothers and John. I was always more fascinated with reading, the images that flew off the pages were real and the monsters just as scary. The physicality of the hunting lifestyle never appealed like it did with the brothers.

 

“You think she’s going to be alright?” Sam whispered to his big brother across the breakfast table, the younger brothers tone lighting up a sense of guilt within Dean’s mind.

“I hope so.” Dean replied, his breath stalling, halting for his over active brain to think; finger tips tapping against the hardwood table with nervousness. “I’ve never seen her take out vampires like that before – Something’s eating away at her.” He continued with a low mumble.

“You think?” Sam questioned honestly, turned up eyebrows and a look that translated compassion. “I’m damn sure – You should have seen her before we got on the road, jittery as hell.”

“Do you think she’s…?”

“No – no, I don’t Sammy.”

 

\---------------------

 

I tiptoed through the tall and vast marbled hallways of the bunker, barefoot padding against a cold tile. One of Dean’s old hoodies clung to my body along with some track pants, all of which were a few sizes too big. The brothers did what they could to ensure my comfort after the busted hunt and my shocked mind. Shocked not only because I was set up on by two fledgling vampires, ambushed at every turn but because Crowley appeared out of no-where and saved my insignificant life. 

I owned him my existence.

The sleeves on the giant hoodie swelled around my wrists; a constant battle of rolling them up to my elbows every so often. My eyes had landed on the huge doors that led into the library, two massive oaken doors that seemed only to add in weight every time I pushed through them.

Cool air rushed into my lungs to the mumbling the other side of the door; two intelligent minds at work each whispering about the same subject, my reckless behaviour. My finger nails lightly trailed over the aged wood; a sigh escaping my pink lips as I decided to heave with all my might, swinging the heavy wooden barriers open. I padded my way inside earning a shift in heads and wisps of Sam’s hair as each pair of eyes traced my form.

I ignored their minds, moving slowly toward my brothers with huge, dilated eyes.

“I’m sorry about the hunt, I shouldn’t have let the Alpha get away like that.” I lied convincingly, pivoting on the balls of my feet with nervousness.

Dean’s lips raised into a small grin. “Eh don’t worry about it – You killed two vamps which is more than what Sam or I did that hunt.”

Dean’s words pierced a part of my soul; the little white lie was turning, twisting all thanks to the demon who saved me. I shrugged with a fake smile. “I knew you still had it in you.” Sam commented with a comforting, gleeful smile; teeth and all.

I couldn’t help but return his goofy grin, the puppy dog eyes and long hair always touched a weak spot that reminded me of our childhood; Sam the gangly, twiggy little boy, which by now he was anything but!

“Thank you Sam – I uh – As much as I enjoyed the hunt I think I’m going to stick to my Hans Solo and copper clock, y’know be your eyes and ears when I need to.” I projected toward both brothers.

Dean nodded his head a few times, pouting his reddish lips. “Hey I can respect that – If that’s what you want.” He gave a casual shrug of his tough shoulders; twisting his pretty boy features to the giant that was Sam.

Sam grinned, slouching slightly back in his rickety wooden chair, palms brushing his outer thighs; both pairs of eyes watched me intensely. “I agree with Dean – Do whatever makes you happy.”

My eyes hopped back and forth from Dean to Sam, acknowledging their minds and verbal thoughts – They were genuine; sweet and totally adorable beams tugging into their mouths; flashing their gorgeous teeth.  
The sleeves on Dean’s oversized hoodie slipped down mid wrist through Sam’s adoration filled sentence; gliding against my soft yet sensitive skin causing my flesh to tingle. A sweet reminder of the magnetic demon that interrupted my slumbered dreams and wakeful mind. The intoxicating allure that quite literally burned within his honeyed hazel eyes, his heated touch that seared my supple flesh with tantalizing jolts of electricity; highly potent chemical reactions that fused between us.

I nodded in agreement to their statements. It had gone down better than expected; from their concentrated thoughts I plucked confusion and worry but what slipped from their lips was quite the on contrary; although they knew they couldn’t hide their mindless ramblings from me – perhaps it was just a gentle clasp of my metaphorical shoulder for comfort; knowing they could speak to me in confidence without uttering a single word.

\----------------

I spent the rest of my day huddled up among countless blankets, surrounded by fluffy duck feathered pillows and Sam’s warm laptop perched on the tops of my thighs. I’m sure a little white lie wouldn’t hurt here and there; asking politely to borrow Sam’s old silver laptop for ‘research purposes’ or – uh – more likely ‘research purposes’ would usually turn out to be a classic film lowered in volume so even I could just about hear it.

My brothers assured me they were cleaning weaponry: handguns, shotguns, knives or any kind of blade for that matter. It didn’t stop my caution as they would hear a pin drop onto a foamed sponge from a mile away if they needed to.

Wasn’t much harm in a day off now and then, right? Everyone needs to relax, especially after being cornered by two fledgling vamps and…

“Well well well – made it out alive did we?” A slightly condescending, gruff voice echoed from beside me. 

The demon of the hour.

I gave a high pitched squeak; cold tingles running all through my body to his velvet voice and very sudden presence. My body contracted into a mini ball, tossing Sam’s laptop to the bottom of the duvet covered double bed, my body hesitantly scrambling from my own little haven only to stumble into Crowley’s rigid, heated chest; his hands instinctively securing my feet to the floor. I glared up at him as he stared down at me, his fingers gently digging into the tops of my arms; one of my single index fingers coming up to press against his thin lips and bristled beard.

“Shh.” I motioned with a light whisper. He offered a roll of his smouldering orbs, fingers trailing up and down my arms on a subconscious level as to comfort. “The hell are you doing here?” I murmured softly.

His less dominate hand dropped from my arm while his other traced up my pulsing neck, quickening at his very touch until his whole palm encased my cheek. “You owe me, darling.”

“You saved me at your own free will.” I retorted quietly; a hushed debate.

“Precisely – You owe me sweetheart – and trust me you’ll enjoy it just as much as I will.” His thumb brushed over my lower lip, pulling it aside slightly to inspect the healing bite wound from our first encounter. “You still hold my mark.” He growled, gliding his hand down to my neck as to reveal the tiny bruise from another punishing nip.

My breathing hitched understanding his exact intentions, a flush of heat from his body ran through mine, a tingling, throbbing feeling that only spurred me to the edge of my invisible tether. 

Crowley’s nose traced the outline of my jaw, his warm breath washing over my neck and collarbone; bristles scratching into my blushing cheek. “Sam and Dean are still…” I whimpered unable to control the moan that exited my throat. A dark chuckle rumbled through Crowley’s chest; a deep crackle of thunder.

His nose trailed upward; lips grazing my plump, blushed cheeks until he reached my mouth. His pure white teeth protruding to claim the fleshy edge in one bite, wrenching softly, emitting a low groan from the back of my throat. “You talk too much sweetheart – don’t you want to feel me again? – don’t you want me to touch you?” His hands laced around my waist, pulling me dangerously close to his hot body. My palms flattened against his suit and paisley tie; a loud whine leaving my lips as I felt his hips grind against mine. “Yes.” I moaned, just inches away from his mouth; his heady scent flooding my blood stream. 

He captured my mouth in a ravaged kiss, hot and needy, his tongue immediately at my fleshy barriers demanding entrance, poking, prodding, growling into my lips as he pushed me back toward my fluffy bed. My hands made quick work of his trench coat and suit jacket, pushing them off in one foul swoop with enough force for them to fall like a ton of stones.

I granted him access to my mouth; his tongue quickly licking mine, swirling and tasting every inch of what I had to offer. He on the other hand tasted of whisky, aged, oaky whisky but that was nothing compared to his scent, a male infused pheromone mixed with his usual high quality cologne. 

A toxic combination that drove he and myself wild.

In a matter of seconds we were bared before each other, his masculine body covering mine, grinding, teasing parts of me that demanded immediate attention. His rough palms caressed my shoulders; a sandpaper touch. Rough bites and lingering licks to soothe the aggravated area that bruised my pulse point. Crowley inhaled the scent from my skin, travelling once more to my lips as he continued to relentlessly tease my aching opening. A smug smirk pulled into his lips at the sight of my undoing.

Dazed and whimpering it was hard to figure out what or where he was touching as each graze and brushing trace left me groaning and writhing beneath him, his hands seemed to be everywhere at once, until he graced a very sensitive area.

Crowley’s rough, thick fingers circled my slick slit; his hip lifting to take advantage of my vulnerability. He teased even now, dipping just the tip of his index finger inside only to pull it out immediately with each loud groan. “You think you can take me again, sweetheart?” He asked genuinely; hinting on concern. Suddenly allowing a single finger to slide inside and pump in and out with articulated slowness; curling upward toward a sweet spot. I bucked my hips into his finger, physically begging for him to continue.

Carefully he added another finger, flexing them deep inside as to stretch my slick to make way for his impressive cock – thank god for those extra three inches, not that he really needed them!

“Please.” I begged, feeling the warmth of pleasure surging toward the edge as he continued to press at my sweet spot.

In that second his fingers were gone and I was whimpering at the loss of contact. In a daze of lingering pleasure he readied himself, pumping his length with his dominant hand; my juices glistening against his shaft as he fucked his hand. I moaned at the sight, resting up on my elbows to watch as he rubbed his tip against my folds.

We caught eye contact, an insatiable lust taking over as he diverted his orbs down, pushing, parting, stretching my slick pussy out to accommodate him. I bit my lip, drawing blood from the desirable flesh, my breathing rapid as he buried himself to the hilt; our bodies joined as one. His fuzzy cheek rested against my collarbone, letting go with a relieved sigh. “So warm – so tight.” He mumbled incoherently into my skin. My fingers travelled into the back of his hair, the valleys between my fingers running down to his shoulder blades; nails digging into his sweating skin. “Move.” I moaned coldly which was replied with a grunt; his taut arm muscles lifting to support his weight as his hips snapped violently into mine. A scream escaping my lungs only to be muffled by his lips up on mine. “You wanted me to move, sweetheart…” He started to rhythm his thrusts; breathing hotly onto my chees. Drawing sweet moans and excitable gasps from my throat. “...You didn’t specify how you wanted to me to move…” He grunted into my ear, prodding right into my sweet spot deep within me.

I gripped his shoulders, digging my nails into his flesh until blood seeped from his skin and trickled a drop at a time down his shoulders; a dark chuckle hummed within his chest, escaping through his lips and washing over my face. “Kinky little thing.” He pounded harder into that one spot; the overwhelming feeling of an orgasm building within my belly.

He felt my walls fluttering, tightening around his length. Crowley’s pace quickened to something super-human, slamming into my hips, hitting that spot over and over until he, himself couldn’t take anymore and we both toppled over the edge; him lodging himself deep inside as he spilled his seed. My walls continued to flutter as I came down from my high, wincing when he decided to slowly pull out from the constricting tunnel.

He rolled over onto his back – but this time holding his arm up slightly. When I didn’t move from my sated state he glanced over with – concern in his hazel orbs. “Did I hurt you too much?” He muttered softly. My brow contorted – He cared for my wellbeing – well that was new. 

I quickly shook my head, scooting over to his side; his arm draping over my shoulder as I rested against his clammy chest. His heart was hammering, throbbing his demonic blood around his oxygen lacking meat suit.

“Since when have you been a fuck em’ - cuddle em’ demon?”

He shifted his exhausted features down to me; crinkling the bed linen against his thick black and grey beard, rising a single eyebrow to me. 

“I may be the King of Hell but I am no less of an affectionate lover, sweetheart.”

“I thought demons couldn’t feel – anything.”

He stared up at the ceiling with blank eyes; his fingers caressing just below my ribs to my stomach. 

“We can’t” He confirmed with a sore tone. “But that doesn’t stop me from treating you the way you enjoy.” He spoke with a smirk.

A muffled giggle bubbled within my throat, my fingers holding him closer to my naked body.

“You are completely insufferable.”


	9. Poker Night

Waking up alone and in a cold chaotic bed was one of the worst ways to start a new day. Blankets tossed here and there, pillows flung over the other side of the room, my personal clothes no better and a familiar throbbing between my thighs, a painful stinging ache that only got worse with movement. My eyelids batted the bright light that found its way into my irises; constricting pupils and agonising retinas. The scent of my demonic lover lingering in the sheets beside my naked body; a licentious desire.

The basic human activity of dressing myself had never been more of a burden, tender muscles and stiff limbs only made the challenge more intolerable; sliding my arms up into a fitted t shirt, lifting my stonewashed jeans to my bruised hips. Sleeping with Crowley had It’s upsides but man it had its downsides too, as though with each cardinal sin exposed for all too see came with physically painful punishments. A wicked reminder of sleeping with the enemy. 

It was only when I was stumbling backwards, tight jeans at my thighs did the very familiar sound of falling binder hit the quilts of my disarrayed bed. I turned in that instant; fingers latched into the loop holes of my denim. There was no sweet scent or passing by just a distorted yellow binder snuggling within the duvet.

Effortlessly I threaded the button of my jeans through the hole, tugging down my fitted shirt before more willingly than ever making my way toward the first, serious case file Crowley was inclined to show me. I could imagine why he held back with his reservations to begin with; my first job from him being what was essentially office admin. My guess was no matter how much of a kingdom he had created, no matter how strict or structured it was there were always skeletons in the closet; filthy, decomposing corpses within the realms of his mind.

I sat perched on the end of my bed; the dull ache still pulsing within the confines of denim clad thighs. I held the mustard yellow binder in my hands, each cover resting on an individual palm as I read the instructions of this so called case. Well – it was nothing of the sort more of a break in terms and conditions if you were a crossroads demon. Page after page of rules and regulations, processes and emergency operations.

My brow furrowed to the garbled mumbo jumbo that Crowley had decided to grace me with; my slender fingers flicking through the, what seemed like endless pages of nonstop writing. That was until a photograph and a neatly written personal letter fell from the back cover; both photograph and scrap on paper pinned together with a new and shiny paperclip.

 

I snapped the binder together, shifting it under my arm as to take Sam’s silver laptop with my other hand. I had to make up some kind of story if I needed to research around my brothers – Maybe it was a case I had been…  
No – that wouldn’t work.

Perhaps a case that would find the where-abouts to Crowley? – They would never suspect the obvious and while they were on a wild goose-chase Crowley could kick it back with me and…

‘Good god can you hear yourself?!’ My inner ear yelled furiously into my brain. ‘You’re supposed to hate him! Not crave his company and deceive your only family!” It screamed again.

I rolled my eyes with a side serving of drowning guilt, storming my way out of my dishevelled bedroom, B lining toward the library.

‘You’re going to have to be convincing’ I told myself as I paced quickly; eyes set on the huge wooden doors that barred the library from the rest of the marbled palace. I sighed, my lungs deflating to the sudden influx of thoughts coming from the other side of the massive doors, Sam.

I shoved the doors open with my shoulder, breaking through until there left enough room for me to squeeze through. Sam sat hunched over at the hardwood table, a book in one hand and a ball pen in the other; the creaking hinges alerting his active mind to my physical presence. His carved features lifted to rest easily on my incoming form, a smile erupting into his lips. 

My plan would have to either kick in now or never, I gulped thickly, plastering my calm face with sudden panicked excitement.

“Sam – sorry I’m up so late – slept like a fuckin’ log.” I said quickly, padding my brow with the backside of my free hand. I was lucky, extremely lucky in fact. Neither Sam nor Dean had heard the lustful shenanigans between Crowley and I last night.

Sam scooted his chair over, his large hand pulling out the rickety wooden chair beside him; screeching against the cold stone floor.

“You’re here now.” Sam chimed with his usual happy go lucky mood and huge goofy grin as I took my researching spot next to him; placing down his silver laptop and Crowley’s case file on top.

Sam’s eyes were glued to the yellowed binder, inspecting it as though it were secret and confidential paperwork. The binder held no secrets mind you, I had taken out all of the incriminating evidence that could potentially link Crowley to myself, all that was left was the rogue crossroads demons case file.

Sam let out a whispered chortle, still sort of stumped by the thick yellow folder, So I put him out of his misery.

“It’s a case file I’ve been putting together these past few months – Y’know since Crowley is evading us like the plague I thought I’d follow his breadcrumbs.”

“A case file you never told Dean or I about?” He questioned with an impressed grin, his sparkling pure white teeth glinting within my irises. I glanced over, my lower jaw hanging slightly to his words; I leaned into the table, sliding my hand over the binder.

“Never came up.” I spoke sharply, thinking actively in the spot light. “In all honesty Sam, I forgot about it til’ now – y’know when something just lands in front of your eyes after months?”

There wasn’t any suspicion within his multi coloured eyes, his smile continuing to curve into his lips. “Boy, do I know that feeling.” I nodded to his soft, slightly comforting words, breathing lowly; reducing the oxygen rich air within my lungs.

 

As I flipped open the yellow binder a large hand came up to grasp my shoulder, kneading my sore flesh and tender muscles through my clothing; fingertips working. “I’ll go make the coffee.” Sam broadcasted from above as he stood. This was overall pretty normal, I would sit down with my papers and Sam would prepare his finest brew of a full flavour Maxwell House. On a bad day we could get through five or more jugs of black coffee, on exceptionally bad days the coffee would stand cold while a bottle of twenty year old scotch mysteriously found its way to my plump lips.

With the final beat my fingers traced over the copper timer, pressuring the switch downwards as to initiate my research.

\------------------------

I had sat at that table for hours – so many I had actually lost count knowing that it was probably way past what I could count on my fingers. Sam had flitted in and out of my mind and physical view, helping where he could then hesitantly removing himself from the researched investigation to either help Dean out with baby or take a long woodland run. If I was honest I didn’t even acknowledge him coming or going. My mind was so set on finding this rogue demon who had killed a few of Crowley’s clients and then vanished into thin air. To say the least it was starting to grate on me, tugging at every mental and trained ability I had to track the son of a bitch down.

Occasionally I would have frustrated outbursts, a slam of a fist which vibrated through the rosewood or a gritting my back molar teeth, perhaps nipping at the inside of my cheek muscle just to relieve some cerebral stresses. Today it gave the impression that it was a bad day to be researching or attempting to pursue any kind of creature. Telepathy helped because I was able to search Crowley’s mind the night before for hidden information but it’s not like I could pull evidence from thin air, I wasn’t a fortune teller.

I sighed with sheer relief at the jittering and ear piercing noise from my copper alarm, it signalled the end of my working day, a chance to relax and kick back with my brothers. I wasn’t going to argue with it this time as my hand made a sudden break for the stop button, simultaneously the rusted creaking and clanging sounded from the mansion like staircase that lead to the outside world, banged against the flecked marbled wall. My eyes broke away from the blinding whiteness of the A4 sized pieces of paper, my blue ball pen falling to the desk at the clinking and jingling of beer bottles rattling round within a cardboard box.

Both Dean and Sam sauntered into the library with cases of beer stacked one on top of another, huge grins plastering their pretty features; heaving and grunting with the weight of fizzy alcohol. “The hell is this, boys?” I asked with a smile, although I already knew what exactly they had planned, as their minds could hardly contain the excitement.

Both crates of beer were lowered onto the wood table with ease; Dean leaned against his crate, crossed arms and flashing teeth. “Movie night’s cancelled – Sam said you were stressed so I naturally thought…” He stood, arms raised up to his sides only to fall and slap his outer denim clad thighs. “Beer and poker night.” He added with a deep, almost never ending smirk and pointing finger. 

I stared up at him with wide eyes, shifting toward the cold beer bottles that stood within a cardboard armour. “You do remember poker is a little redundant to be playing with me? I’ll be able to see what cards you’ve got.”

Dean nodded, the smug grin never leaving his lips. “How could I forget a sixteen year old Y/N scamming bikers and business men out of their last couple hundred bucks?”

“Not the highlight of my life – How do you feel about Blackjack instead?”

Dean leaned back into his crate, a viciously dark chuckle rumbling through his red lips as we glared to make playful eye contact “Bring it.”

 

\----------------------

 

Beer and poker night it was, bottle after bottle, card game after card game. A comforting mix of past stories and future ideas, all three of us laughing to the tales of Dean Winchester lost in New York and Sam Winchester getting locked inside a Cincinnati library at twelve years old and the time Dean dressed up as a clown for his little brothers tenth birthday, poor Sam, always the underdog.

“Why clowns anyway? Those dudes have always have a happy smile on their faces.” Dean asked already knowing the answer but loving to tease his little brother relentlessly, tapping the table with his fingers; a silent double down. I flipped a card over revealing an ace. “Ace.” I mumbled, listening intently to their conversation, both verbally and mentally. Silence was the key with the Winchester brothers – that and it was unholy hilarious.

“You always used to drop Y/N and I off at Plucky Pennywhistles then drive off to shack up with Lauren Taylor.” Sam spoke with an edged tongue; spiked and somewhat venomous. Sam visibly scooted his chair closer to mine and with that I leaned toward him, taking his metaphorical side.

“Oh yeah – Lauren.” Dean gave a high pitched whistle, waving his hand over his deck as to not add anymore cards. Sam and I both rolled our eyes to his yearning reminisce. “No offence Sammy but why is it only you that mentally scarred with the painted freaks and not Y/N?”

I stared blankly into the middle of the beer bottle and card scattered table. “I was the small kid always throwing up in the ball pit – Sam always had my back and helped me clamber out.” I confirmed matter of factly before anyone could speak, my eyes taking a sneaking glance from under my low numbered cards. “Sam has a fear of clowns and I just have an irrational fear of drowning in my own vomit.” I said sarcastically, flipping a card over for myself, making my risk figure nineteen. “Stick.” I murmured under my breath. 

“Frigging pizza sucked at that place anyway.” I added lightly, waiting for Sam’s thoughtful movement.

\--------------------------

 

The night became merry, tipsy and slightly too flamboyant, the thick brick wall I always left partially raised had come crashing down with just a few more beers, the warm alcohol was running through my system smoothly.

“I’m helping the spaniel!” I exclaimed, jumping up from my wooden seat to land on Sam’s lap. To say the least hysterics by this time had gotten out of control, it had started when Dean had shared his first bust up with a biker gang and the argument that ensued after, his younger teenage-self wandering backwards out of a bar after calling a man who was made like a brick shit house, Susie. 

“The spaniel?” Sam questioned with a slur, his palms coming to rest on my waist as he slouched back into his seat.

I shifted in his lap, pointing at his long brown hair, running a few strands through the valleys between my fingers. “If you were to part your hair, it’d look like you had two long ears.” I talked without coherent thought: mindless rambling. 

“It’s better than Moose.” Dean said attempting to shuffle and jostle the cards; some flying off here and everywhere. “Why’re you on his side anyway? Sam’s better at poker than me!”

Sam sat slouched down in his seat; to the point of lying down. Totally content with my perched position. “You really think I look like a spaniel?” He asked brushing aside Dean’s drunken conversation with his own. I twisted my head slowly down to him with a small nod. “You’ve always been the puppy dog of the family.” My hand smoothed ungracefully into his luscious hair, ruffling it to the point where it puffed out.

“Okay so if Sam’s a spaniel, what am I?” Dean asked, throwing the cards down and crossing his arms unceremoniously in front of his chest. I thought for a minute, my finger pressed hard up against my lips.

“Ummm…”

“I’m waiting..” Dean slurred

“A Racoon!” 

My sudden shout caused Sam to cry out with laughter, slouching even further, clapping his hands as he bellowed.   
Dean looked stunned, eyes wide and pupils blown from the flooding alcohol within his system.

“A racoon? – How the fuck did you get there?!”

I twisted in Sam’s lap, my back resting against his chest as I began to give my mental assault up on the eldest Winchester. 

“Racoons are cute dude! – Like little robbers, and they always want food and shiny things – That’s essentially you!” 

Sam’s laughter never stopped as I continued to relate Dean to a ‘little robber racoon.’

“Fine, so if Sam’s a Spaniel because of his hair and I’m a Racoon because I love to eat and polish baby then you’re an – an – an Owl!”

Sam breathed enough to roll a slurred sentence from his tongue. “She’s a nerdy bird!”

I held my hands up in defeat, a bubbling giggle toppling from my lips. “Still keeps me one up from the both of you!”

Dean chuckled into his half empty brown beer bottle; echoing inside the glass.

“Team Winchester – Sam the fair haired spaniel, me the dumpster diving racoon and Y/N the nerdy bird.” 

All three of us, lurched over with hysterical laughter, lungs gasping for air to calm our aching sides.

Life had never been better.


	10. Arrangements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I have a FB page deicated to my writing, so if you like my stuff why not give it a "like" for early access sneak peaks into Bound In Chains and my new fic on AO3 "Silver eyes."
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/BLClose (you'll have to copy and paste this link)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

There was a dramatic contrast between awakening at this present moment and laying within a cold, frenzied bed yesterday morning. At this moment I was snuggled, bundled within soft camping blankets next to a slumbering Sam Winchester while Dean had crashed in the equally comfortable arm chair across from the couch. Our night of endless laughter and duped poker games came to its close around four thirty in the morning; the orange sun rising above the dewy morn.

Most would have questioned our intimacy as Sam and I lay side by side on the couch, his large arm and hand draped over my waist, his floppy head leaning over the side and drooping downwards; he’d have a bad neck when he woke. Our intimacy although questionable was nothing more than platonic love, adoration and respect, brothers and sister by our familial bond and best friends until the end of time.

 

As always, I was the first to awake from my warm snooze, my eyes blinking to the sounds of soft snores and a heavy, shifting body against the material of the armchair. Both brothers had consumed more alcohol than me, making them prime candidates for late stirring. Not that I was complaining, there were a few things I needed to acquire without the snooting noses of Sam or Dean rousing suspicion.

A deep, gruff growling and a clearing of throat rumbled above me in my hazy, slightly hung-over state. My head instinctively twisted toward the source of the noise – and that’s exactly when it hit me, his scent – his mind working into overdrive – jealously clouding in the more sensitive areas of his brain.

My eyes landed on the clad in black demon – just standing there in the middle of the living room while both brothers slept. I swear he was getting more and more bold – or stupid.

My breath hitched in my chest, a tight sensation that spurred on a flush of heat that tingled around my body. Crowley’s eyebrows raised to my slightly compromising position, a quick nip to his bottom lip and a bend of his lower back saw his rough hand grasp my ankle. My world span out of control, melting for a split second then depositing me within the realms of the library, my demonic lover before my eyes. I tried to obtain my bearings; a sea sickness wobble pulsing through my legs and the alcohol from the night before daring to spill from my throat. A harsh, overpowering taste lingering within my mouth.

“What the fuck was that?! – More importantly what the hell are you doing here?!” I yelled toward the demon king, not caring in that split second whether the boys heard or not.

Crowley took a metaphorical step back at my biting tone, a tone that he had never experienced with me before – I guess that’ll teach him disturb my slumber in future.

“Charming.” He swivelled on the balls of his feet, slowly prowling down the elongated table, his hazel eyes flicking from bookshelf to chandelier and back again. I watched cautiously, standing in total silence other than the scuffing and intimidating echoing of his well-polished shoes. 

“Little birdy tells me you’ve finished you’re research.” His voice was rough and clinical as he continued to pace, eyes scouring over the vast amounts of piled books and crumpled papers.

“Almost.” I whispered just loud enough to hear. “There are a few details to iron out – The demon you’re looking for goes by the name of…”

“Jerry, I know – never liked that filthy rat.”

I gulped to his dark voice, for the first time in ever he seemed truly terrifying; his black trench coat swaying from side to side as he paced back toward me, piercing eyes and a one track mind.

“Tell me, Y/N” He started as he proceeded to close the gap between us. His mind was exceptionally haunting, as though he held a secret. A mysterious well of unruly venom pulsed round his form – a heat radiated from his body, a temperature so hot that caused a sweat upon my brow.

Everything in me wanted to back away, to run and hide from this – demon that stood before me, anger, frustration and jealously prevalent within his mind. His voice lowered to the point of becoming impossible to hear. “You told me you were the best – trained by John Winchester himself. If that’s so then why isn’t this little problem taken care of? – Hmm?”

“I need a little more time.” I whispered heavily.

“Time? – I gave you time sweetheart…”

My body tensed, muscles contracting with his domineering tone, a rare flush of red hot anger surged through me. Anger was never my ‘go to’ emotion but like a puffer fish faced with immediate danger my body had already started to react. A pool of warm saliva brimmed below my teeth, my heart had quickened and pupils dilated.

“I am no soothsayer, Crowley – Nor am I a mystic clairvoyant – The unfortunate curse I carry does not allow me to see past the realms of the mind.”

My tone held no surprise or disturbance toward the king, his features and mind were calm and collected.

“All I ask is that you live up to your infamous name.”

His voice was meant to intimidate which it did a brilliant job of doing but he couldn’t hide his lurid thoughts. My lips trembled as I took in breath; able to taste and smell the whisky on his own – A burst of colour rushed into his mind, clearing the vicious reds and navy blues. The colour that settled into trembling images within his thoughts were familiar, apple green.

“Y – You can’t hide it from me.” I stuttered, becoming well aware that his eyes popped wide open to my sincere words. “I can see – everything you think about.” I whispered with a light breath. Crowley’s honeyed orbs lingered on mine just a moment longer. He pulled back, stepping away from my tense form; echoing soles against flecked marble. The demons slick, rough palm wiped over his entire face and down to his beard, plucking the thick black and grey wired hairs through his fingers. He had been exposed, from the very beginning he knew his mind would become punctured and assaulted with my ability, but he had let slip the tiniest of thoughts; the most insignificant cortical wavelengths. “When you’re finished – find me.” I nodded to his simple words; within my nod the king was gone.

 

My confusing words must have sounded out of the deep blue, a moment of pure madness. Crowley’s mind was open to me, at first in what was eager intrigue at the crossroads had slowly trickled and tainted, intrigue had caused fascination until just the tiniest drop of something new dripped from his callous heart. A burning hot desire to further his understanding of my special ability, a prickling jealously underneath the black suit that adorned his body. On top of everything, all of his hatred, evil, wickedness and promiscuity, stood all alone one single response, a response that did not match his demonic disposition. 

He cared for me.

 

\-----------------------

 

“You’re still working on that demon case?” Dean asked as he paced relatively slowly toward my researching spot; the ticking copper alarm clock was the only thing to relieve the silence. I lifted my heavy head to his words, a dead pan expression smothering my features.

“You seem surprised.”

“I’m just saying – You’ve been obs…”

“I would hardly call it obsessing, Dean. – This could take us straight to Crowley.” An exasperated breath escaped my lungs as the last letterings etched their way onto the bright paper. My ball point pen flicked downward from my grasp as Sam settled into the seat next to me.

Dean’s emerald green eyes never left my form, his twisting mind running through the possible causes for my blatant hostility. His red lips were slightly agape as he leaned into the table, pulling the white mug of black coffee to himself. 

I could see and hear their minds working overtime. I could sense Sam’s expression was one of empathy but just the way his brow contorted out of the corner of my eyes, his multi coloured eyes never leaving the side of my face.

Sam had a very controlled mind, with just a flick of a switch he could channel a single thought to the fore front of my mind; making it impossible not to listen or see the swirls of faded coloured images.

‘You’ve been working too hard’ He muttered the single thought into his head, sparking my immediate attention. I tapped my finger nails into the hard rosewood table, the only downside to this method was that I was completely unable to respond back without uttering physical words.

‘Take a break – Get some fresh air – Go for a drive.’ He spoke within his brain.

My eyes wandered up to him, weight leaning back on my elbow as I gave him a meaningful look. His hazel eyes flickered down to me in a spilt second, a smile tugging up into his lips as he read my facial expression to the T. Sam didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what was going on inside my head.

‘How exactly am I going to get past Mr Protective over here?’ I thought to myself, my eyes wondering from Sam to his eldest brother.

It was almost as though Sam had heard my thought, his iridescent orbs following mine; his sweet smile fading.

‘What? - You’re good at making up excuses – Maybe it’s your time in the month?”

My eyes shot open to Sam’s calm yet upfront inner words. His gaze was drawn away from me; sipping at his bitterly sweet brew of coffee like he hadn’t uttered a single word within his own head.  
I sighed to myself, my hands everywhere as I shuffled papers together, stacking and filing them into the mustard yellow folder. Dean watched my fingers work, my eyes roaming each written piece of paper before I pushed the completed folder toward him; scuffing and rubbing against the abrasive wood.

“Here – This may help you track down Crowley – Im…uh…”

Dean’s fingers wrapped around the binder, pulling it to himself and flipping the cover open to reveal my detailed research; he watched on my inhaled breath, words daring to topple from my lips.

“I uh – I need to get some fresh air and uh lady – things.” I heard a muffled snicker from Sam’s direction, more than likely he was biting his bottom lip to refrain from laughter.

“I can drive you.” Dean announced at once, setting aside the yellow binder, staring up at me with a caring honesty.

I shook my head “No Dean, it’s alright – I’ll just take the Camaro – I’ll bring food back – promise.”

\-----------------------

The hard tires of the cobalt screeched against the concrete flooring of the garage, the putrid scent of burning rubber backfired into the bunker, smoke collecting as the heavy beast shot forward, growling its way out of the brightly lit vehicle lock-up. The back end of the overzealous muscle car swayed outwards as I battled to control such a raging machine. The rear wheel drive kicked in as I played with the tempo, spurring the electric blue beast forward onto the black tarmac.

I would be lying if I said the muscled steel stallion didn’t give me a flying high. A rush of hot blood mixed with copious amounts of adrenaline; a pumping heart that raced twice the speed of normal as I floored my foot to the accelerator. Counting numbers until I had reached over the 100mph mark, speeding shamelessly down the open country roads.

My fingers gripped tightly into the bound leather of the steering wheel; nails digging into the fleshy material. I didn’t know where I was going, hell I didn’t even have the ingredients to summon the king nor did I carry an ancient Tabaco tin for a crossroads. I just drove, drove until the sun had started to set way off in the distance; an orange glow humming just above the horizon.

A dust and pebble trail kicked out behind the back wheels of the Camaro; my foot taking the pressure off the accelerator, tiny stone flinging back into the paintwork and glass window. It seemed like a perfect place as any to wait for the smartly dressed king. My hands twisted, hauling the beast of a car over to the side of the road, rolling to a complete stop.

Adrenaline still pumped through my body as I stepped out; the driver’s door creaking as it was swung to full capacity. The skies had darkened, the sun complete obscured from view; just a faint golden glow beaming from behind the breezy corn fields and barley meadows.

A glimmer of heat rose from the hood of the Camaro, the engine ticking as it cooled. My feet scuffed the beaten track, shifting stones and dust beneath the soles of my shoes.

“C’mon Crowley.” I grumbled to the vast openness of the American plains.

His scent was suddenly all around me with a gust of cold wind and a nervous mind entered the atmosphere. I pivoted on the balls of my feet, taking in his proud form and tightened features. “You followed me.” I confirmed with just a glance into his mind.

“I never let you out of my sight for too long.” He admitted without a single emotion planted in his gruff voice.

I raised my eyebrows to his statement, leaning on my left hip I trailed my eyes up his darkened form. “Unbelievable.” I murmured.

He took several steps toward me, his hands deep within the shadows of his trench coat pockets; shows rolling tiny particles of grit between the ground and the soles of his polished shoes.

“You enthral me. – Believe me I hate it just as much as you do.” He growled dangerously, his honeyed orbs piercing my own eyes.

I closed my eyes briefly as he paced around me, like a predator stalking its prey. 

God, I had to change the subject.

“Sam and Dean are going after your little problem.” I breathed softly, knowing I was putty in his hands at the utter of a just a few words.

“Is that so?” He came into view again, eyes scouring my features of a sign or a weakness, anything. The warm breeze surrounding us with each second.

“Yes, they’ll be leaving the bunker for a few days.”

His cheeks trembled slightly to my announcement. I took a breath, my chest expanding. “I wanted to ask…” I added nervously. A rackingly hot thought at the back of my mind.

“Go on.” He shifted on hips, taking but a step closer; my heart race increasing, blood pressure spiking.

“I want to see your extraordinary kingdom.”

He thought about it for a second, his eyes narrowing as he glared deep into my soul, trying to figure out my intentions. “You want to go to hell?” His tone of voice was completely incredulous.

“Yes.” I said simply. His rough, calloused palm came up to his face as he glanced down to me; bewilderment clouding his features. His pinched his thin lips, fingers latching into his thick beard. 

I waited on his word; a sharp exhale escaping his lungs. 

“I will need to make arrangements – Call on me when the hardy boys on are the road.”

I nodded once to his demands, a tingling underneath my skin at the mere thought of delving into hells mysterious depths.


	11. So This Is Hell.

“You enthral me. – Believe me I hate it just as much as you.”

His bitter words etched their way into my brain. A string of words that in the first instance were meant to be reciprocated but quickly scratched away by his choice of conclusion. One step forward and two steps backwards.

Besides it was hard to return his now unconcealed care when we’re talking about the King of Hell, the enemy of my enemy and all that – I still hated him, I loathed him in fact, he had pawned sinners and saints for hundreds of years, tossing aside every demon that stood in his way – until he reached his goal; The obsidian and gold throne and the title of King.

It was hard to contain myself, it was hard not to blow it out of proportion, it was hard not to blame myself. I was, in this instance the cause of all of the current problems. If I had, had the self-control and willingness to just push Crowley away; not run to his aid at the first chance to put a hit on my biological family or lay down with nothing but lustful desire for him, none of this would have happened.

\---------------

“I want to see your extraordinary kingdom.”

He thought about it for a second, his eyes narrowing as he glared deep into my soul, trying to figure out my intentions. “You want to go to hell?” His tone of voice was completely incredulous.

“Yes.”

\---------------

 

“Goddamnit!” I exclaimed, punching the steering wheel of the Camaro with my right fist; scrunched, knuckles white as snow.

‘You’re so damn stupid, Y/N!’ I thought to myself, gritting my teeth; grinding my back molars until an unnerving shooting pain throbbed through my lower jaw. ‘Asking him to take you to hell for a tour?! – You’re meant to be getting away from him, girl! Not running into his fucking arms!’

I let out an audible growl, a deep huff that eased my tensed biceps and colourless knuckles. Maybe I could call it off? Or uh – Just not call on him like he had said to do so?

‘No – don’t be so stupid, he’d check-up eventually.’ I sighed harshly, at a total loss of what to do or say.

“What would be so bad about going along with it?” I voiced to myself, both hands on the wheel and a light speed humming through the tires of the blue beast. “He may be the King of Hell but – It’s not like he’s actually hurt me – He’s actually been very affectionate.” I added with a tilt of my head, trying to lighten the dim mood playing out within my vivid mind. I was coming up with excuses and justifications to my insane thought processes. The trivial notion of Crowley and myself becoming anything more than ‘business partners’ was absurd.

 

\--------------

Time, it ticked as slow as the world through the millenniums, each hour felt like day and each day was deemed a year. It dragged similar to a warm corpse being drawn through a dusty and horse beaten western town; it was perpetually tedious. The case file against the demon who betrayed Crowley was gradually transforming into a reality. Sam and Dean were totally engrossed in packing their duffle bags, black and red spray cans tossed without thought, the single demon knife sharpened, large rusted cans of sea salt thudded into the trunk of the Impala, flasks of freshly prepared holy water thrown along-side it. I couldn’t blame them for their sudden overzealous approach to the whole hunt; it was the first ‘lead’ on Crowley they had, had in months. A lead that had been woven out of a little white lie, a dragons chase with no reward other than disappointment and the obvious demonic kill. The short-lived blood lusted thrill, testosterone and adrenaline.

“Sam’s just finishing his packing then we’re going to take off.” Dean said in passing stuffing a light flannel shirt into his war torn military green duffle bag, situated rather ungracefully on the hardwood table. I blinked a few times toward his direction, forcing myself from the mind-numbing haze that had been drawn over my eyes. “You’ll have to give me a call when you’re tracking this son of a bitch, I’ll bug you through whatever information I can manage.” I murmured through thin lips; cheek smushed against the palm of my hand.

I couldn’t see Dean’s expression but as usual I didn’t need to, his concentration was suddenly focused on my lethargic disposition.

“You seem a little blue.”

“Funny – I feel a little violet.” I retorted instantly; my voice licking with total sarcasm.

Next was the sigh – the exhale that would ensue a world of questions, the scraping of chair legs against the slate grey, stone floor, and the muscled mass of his body shift into my personal space.

“Talk to me.” He rumbled into my ear, stirring my attention and tired eyes to rest on his compassionate and sensitive aura. My delicate fingers tugged into my hair, twisting my fatigued body toward him.

“I just – I don’t know man, do you ever get the feeling you approached something in the wrong way?”

“All the time.” He chirped, a miniature smile pulling into his bright lips; a single plaid clad elbow sinking into the wood. I let a chesty laugh slip, jolting my chest at his morbid sense of humour.

“You’ll never change will you?”

“Would you like me to?”

“God no.”

“Thought so.”

I couldn’t hide the instant happiness that rushed into my cheeks, giggling along-side my big brother. His large palm coming up to take my shoulder; massaging his thumb into my clothing. He lowered his head a tiny bit, attempting to catch my wandering attention.

“Look at me.” He pleaded playfully, the smile still lingering in his jawline. Our eyes locked briefly. “If you feel shit again while we’re on the road, call me or Sam – Y’know we’re always be here.”

With a light-hearted giggle I playfully pushed him away, punching his shoulder gently.

“Hey! – No chick flick moments Winchester.”

“I mean it!” He sang back, his beautiful grin fixed in place. The hand that had sunk its way into my shoulder suddenly made a break over my back, pulling me to his comforting form and into a breath-taking warm embrace. Dean’s strong, muscular arms wrapped around my shoulders; my own chair sliding toward him. “I ain’t too good at this stuff Y/N.” He spoke with a whisper.

I sighed happily, melting into his arms like overly warm butter. “You’re better than you think, Dean. – Actions speak louder than words.”

His biceps tightened, his stubbled cheek dropping into the top of my hair. “If there’s anything, anything at all that’s bothering you, please come and talk to me.”   
\----------------

Both brothers left not long after that, army green duffle bags flung over their shoulders and a woeful expression woven onto their chiselled faces. I get it, they were concerned about leaving for such a long period of time. Both brothers always had hunts here and there, from state to state, border to border but we hadn’t been apart like this for many years. A time when faced with the loss of their father, John. The enduring crusade to hunt down the yellow eyed demon had taken a twisting turn, to carry on with their father’s mission. In that time frame we moved from scrummy motel to the leathered back seat of the Impala; just like when we were children. Camping out where we could, following what seemed like never ending leads and goose chases; the brothers leaving me behind as a teenager, with enough food to survive on until they returned a week or so later.

The bunker had an eerie, deathly silence to it as the rumbling growl of the Impala steamed away and out of ear-shot. It would be a long time before I’d be hearing the crisp, pristine engine again.

Now I understand why some people say ‘Silence is deafening.’ The white noise tingle travelled through my ears like static on an old black and white TV screen. That only natural sound was that of my beating heart; hammering a way inside my chest to the thought of calling upon the King of Hell.

“Calm your nerves Y/N” I told myself; whispering into the huge palace like shell of marble. My mind’s eye imagined vast bundles of tumble weed rolling across the stone flooring; echoes of my own breathing resonating against the tall walls and high ceilings. A hidden panic set in, a vicious aching underneath my prickled skin.

My body moved before my mind did, tearing itself away from the anchored spot in the middle of the library floor; an subconscious scuffing of shoes and stumbles. Landing me in one of the many rickety old chairs, my palms slick with sweat as I grasped the table for support; It would seem that the adrenaline and prospect of entering hell guided by our one and only king was too much to handle.

Minutes dragged by with only the pounding in my chest for company – that was until a low rumble, clearing of a throat earning my immediate attention.

The man that stood beside the table was lean but somewhat skinny, young and youthful within his features. A wisp of blonde hair curling at his ears, styled as though he was witness to the most elaborate and fanciest of balls. He stood rigid, hands clasped in front of his body; a black suit with crystal white shirt underneath, a token red handkerchief in his top pocket. He screamed wealth and upper class; a humming bird locked within a marbled cage.

My eyes had latched onto his being within the split second of him appearing from thin air, my eyes torn open, pupils constricting on the well-dressed man.

“The king will see you now.” He said simply, one of his clasped hands rising to urge me stand.

“He couldn’t collect me himself?” I asked with a nervous whisper, pushing my quaking body from the chair. I knew the answer.

The well-dressed demon stood silent for a few seconds; his hand returning to the previous position above his belt. “I am his most respected and trusted escort.”

I stared with disbelief toward the demon, my eyes bouncing from his face to his laced hands.

“Will you take my hand?” He added calmly.

Well – this was strangely incredible, a demon with manners? Please.

I nodded like the fool I was, stepping, tiptoeing forward to take his hand which now outstretched. As soon as our skin touched the world span out of control, a gut wrenching sickness floated within my abdomen. 

The threat of vomiting subsided as the world changed back. We stood in a grand lobby, much grander than the bunker. The marbled walls were clean and by the looks of it – polished. Larger than life tapestries adorned the walls; sheets of hand woven angels – demons and poignant moments in history. Flickering white candles sat snuggly within their metal confines on the walls, while a giant, golden chandelier hung from the painted ceiling. Two wide staircases curled their way around in a U shape leading to a second floor. Which of all places, was where our king stood; one hand planted on the stone stair-rail while his honeyed eyes glared directly downwards.

He sauntered at first, echoing footsteps as he descended; trailing his large fingers down the cold stone.

So this was hell.

“Darling.” He purred with a velvet tongue as he reached the bottom of the stairs. My hand was still tightly sitting in my escorts grip; gently hoisting my wrist for Crowley.  
The demon king took my delicate hand in his rough one, raising it up to his bristled lips to plant a tender peck on my knuckles. If my heart wasn’t racing before, it certainly was now.

His lips lingered for a brief second, those hazel eyes revolving upward as he regarded me. Lifting from his bent position before effortlessly winding his free hand around the small of my back. “You are excused Aiden.” Crowley spoke toward the escort that brought me to his kingdom.

Aiden? – His name.

Aiden bowed toward his master, a lean that spoke total allegiance.

Crowley too gave a slight lean as we departed and Aiden went his own way through the mazes of corridors and hallways; the echoing of his shoes in the distance.

Crowley soon turned his heavily ruffled features down to me, a smirk pulling into his thin lips. “Welcome to Hell.” He said simply, gesturing with his free hand for me to talk with him.

We paced together, a choir of shoes and material in total synchronisation.

“I’m curious.” Crowley stated with a low tone as we walked within an echoes ripple.

I could read him like a book.

“Curious why I wanted to see your kingdom?”

“More importantly why you wanted to come to hell – that’s absurd.” 

I fell silent as his hand curved around my hip bone, pushing me toward two giant ebony doors; they swung open without thought.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Crowley.”

“You should.”

“Why because you’re the king of hell? Please – I’ve seen worse things on my morning toast.”

“Really?” He questioned incredulously.

“Yeah, believe it or not Dean used to have a sense of humour.” I said sarcastically.

The creaking of the huge doors drowned out our footsteps as we made ourselves into the throne room. Crowley’s steps quickened until he was practically dragging me in tow, his body momentarily shielding me from the eyes of demons that flitted in and out, wandering from the throne room and into other chambers. Each one with obsidian eyes, piercing my form as I entered.

Their minds thick with hatred and blood thirst, it was actually unnerving.

“Don’t mind them.” He whispered just loud enough for me to hear it. “They wouldn’t dare stand against their king.”

My eyes popped open as wide as they could go to the thoughts of some of the wandering tainted souls. Murder was on their minds, followed by jealously and anger. 

“Am I in danger?” I whispered back as we slowly made our way toward his throne; my eyes diverted to each of the paints and elaborate tapestries that hugged the walls.

“Not with me around.” He mumbled back, his hand slipping to my lower back once more. “They will not lay a finger on you, sweetheart.”

A sweet, blushing smile tugged into my lips as his head turned away, nipping my bottom lip. 

“You’re going to protect me?” I quickly stuffed my smile to the corners of my mind as his chin turned toward me again. 

“If I have to.” He spoke with a raised eyebrow.

\----------

We neared his throne and the few steps that lead up to it, it was magnificent, a golden and black seat, carved and beautifully polished.

The kings hand quickly slipped from my back – where he – grasped my hand, leading me, one by one up the stoned steps toward his seat. Our feet echoing as my eyes lay up on his mounted chair.

“So this is it? – Hells throne.”

“The one and only.” He rumbled deeply, pivoting me on my feet with his demonic powers. “Take a seat.” He demanded softly.

“Are you kidding?” I asked, my brow contorting to his words.

He gestured down to his throne. “I want to see how you look in it.” He admitted gently, twisting his feet and rolling his hips nervously.

A primal growl echoed behind us and without thought or registration, without removing his eyes from myself. Crowley lifted his forefinger and thumb, clicking them immediately.

The defying demon behind the king suddenly exploded into a dust ball, floating downwards onto the stone floor.

My eyes sprung out their sockets to his brash actions.

“Why…Cr…Crow…” I stuttered suddenly filled anxiety.

He stepped forward, a wicked smile up on his face; wrinkling his eyes and cheeks to my form within his throne, his thick fingers suddenly underneath my throat, lifting my chin, his eyes locking onto my plump lips before making smouldering eye contact.

“No-one dares threaten you or I, sweetheart.” In that our lips locked gently – a burst of a highly toxic chemical reaction.


	12. Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A king is worthless without his queen, sweetheart.” **SMUT**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back after a break, Im sorry I didn't inform anyone of my leaving - Writing was getting kind of tedious so that's usually the point I stop to ensure the quality of my work. I just didn't want you guys to read garbage :)
> 
> Anyway I'll be uploading as often as I can, but please understand it cane take days if not weeks to write a chapter (I have pre-written chapters for back up on bad days)
> 
> Also I've decided either Bound In Chains or Silver Eyes (My other SPN FanFic) - One of them WILL get rewritten into an actual publishable book to buy over Amazon once I have finished everything and tied up all the details :)

For a large slab of ancient jet and magnificent gold, Crowley’s throne was rather comfortable, a little cold mind you but comfortable none the less. He stared down to me while circling his ruler’s seat with pride; fingertips trailing over the soft metal and stone. My fingers did the same with the arm rests; dawdling down the crisp sheen taking in its enchanting appearance. I don’t think I had seen so much gold and rare jet in my life. There must have been well over ten million dollars’ worth of gold – that I – of all people was perched on it, acting as though it was some sort of delicate Asian flower; a gilded, pastel tinted orchid.

“Do you like it?” He muttered lowly as he paced around his imposing throne, fingers in tow as he slipped into view once more; echoing of his polished shoes against perfect and solid marble.

I wriggled underneath his intense gaze, feeling slightly out of my comfort zone as many demons wandered in and out of the throne room, minding their own business and chores. “It’s very impressive.” I commented on the sheen and how it felt against my bare palms; cold, soft, sooth to the touch, wealth and power.

Crowley stood directly in front of me, hands by his sides, clenching his fingers with nervousness and apprehension. It was strange hearing his mind act the way it was, how my presence alone sparked off a whole range of physical responses and..

“Would you come for a drink with me? – Felix tells me we have my favourite vintage.”

Unbeknownst to me and my totally occupied mind, I hadn’t noticed the demon that stood to the side of Crowley nor did I remark the group of enslaved devils that were brushing away the large clump of piled ash from our kings little outburst; the demon that defied him with a single growl.

I peered round Crowley as he waited on my answer; seeing the demon so named ‘Felix’ from the corner of my eye. I first took in the forms of the three demons disposing of the ash with what looked like a dustpan and brush, while the two others held open a generic trash bag. I blinked a few times, still on the metaphorical verge of anxiety; my eyes trailing up the king and his trusted employee.

I stole a good look at the demon beside our king, tall, dark hair, a tailored suit and a crystal white cloth hanging over the side of his left arm. He seemed to be just a little older than Aiden who transported me here. A look of youthful glow settling into his cheeks and tiny laughter wrinkles beside his eyes.

Crowley’s face had started to drop at the lack of words rolling from my lips; waiting patiently yet his mind screamed with frustration. I should probably put him out of his misery.

“A drink? – I mean – yeah a drink, I could do with a whisky.” I said in passing, tilting my head to peer around the king to stare at the work crew.

Crowley dismissed Felix with a raise of two fingers and nod of his brow; the trusted demon wandering off with an elegant bow toward a darkened chamber.

This place really did remind me of an ant’s nest, demons flitting here, there and everywhere, from chamber to chamber, hundreds passing each minute in what seemed like the speed of light.

\-----------------------

“What did you do to him?” I asked with a murmured voice, perching my very being at the tip of the chair.

Crowley followed my eyes as he too landed on the cleaning crew and the pile of scattered dust. His gruff voice was incredibly quizzical.

“Don’t you already know?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you ask?” His tone grew darker at my unintentional sheathing of my ability, fluster of annoyance woven within his character.

My eyes moved slowly from the crew to the master, I gave a small shrug to my shoulders. “It wasn’t intentional – It’s habit, I wanted to know if you’d tell me the truth.”

The demon king gave a great external sigh, his nostrils flaring and chest deflating at the comprehension and innocence of my words. “I incinerated him.” He said coolly.

“I know.”

“Clearly.”

My tongue flicked around my mouth and cheeks, trying to come up with a way to end the slightly awkward silence that had enveloped us. With a quick thrust of my forearms I was balanced on my feet again; whimpering a sigh at the loss of the gold against my warm skin.

“Crowley – that drink…” I spoke with a small smile tugging into my reddish lips. His honeyed orbs trailed from my slightly agape mouth to my eyes, the same impish smirk pulling into his lips as well.

“Of course, darling.”

\---------------

 

We stalked down the lengthy hallways of his imposing empire, demons steering around us as to give us a wide birth, a tainted smirk plastered the king’s face. His hand was yet again at my lower lumber, guiding me, urging me forward; fingers curling round my hip bone. Each one of the little devils that past us had their obsidian eyes locked onto my form – trying desperately to figure me out – to figure out the intentions of their monarch and his human ‘business partner’.

Crowley hugged himself to me; our hips touching, brushing side by side as we strode down the seemingly narrowing corridor.   
My heart rate sped up with the close encounter with his heated body.

“Are you scared?” He murmured down to my ear, briefly pressing his nose into my hair; his breath running over my already sensitive skin.

I shook my head, holding back the whimper that dared to accidently slip from my lips.

“Your heart is racing, sweetheart.”

Shit – Demons could do that? – I guess so.

\--------------

We entered a large Victorian styled room, dark panelled walls with an oak flooring, the furniture was mostly a chestnut colour; high quality polished woods and a single exquisitely embroidered red Russian rug at the foot of a dark sable leather couch. There was a beautiful glow to this room, an orange hinting on gold, warm and highly inviting, red and white candles lit around the room; their flames like fireflies against the ebony timber.

Just a few feet from the brown leather couch sat an open fireplace, crackling and spitting endlessly as we walked into the pine scented room. It was warm, much warmer than the throne room had been and like I said before it smelt of freshly cut pine with an undertone of Crowley’s toxic cologne that followed his clad in black mass.

He closed the door wish such gentleness, I barely heard the clatter, his heavy footsteps trailing behind me; I, myself slowly prowling toward the leather chesterfield.

“Beverage?” he muttered down to me, sauntering past hardly brushing his shoulder against my own.

“Whisky, please.” He nodded once to my words, lowering his hooded eyes down to a small wooden coffee table where he poured ancient, aged whisky from a gorgeous crystal decanter; the trickle of harsh amber liquid as I seated myself on the chesterfield.

He wandered over casually palming the two tumbler glasses in his rough hands, he offered the drink with a raise of his eyebrow, seating himself relatively close to my form.

The scent alone from the whisky was eye watering – although it smelt smooth and aromatic, slightly oaky, a trace of barley – but something else quickly took my rapid attention the thoughts hopping around the kings mind were memories, memories of his first taste of the whisky, Glencraig.

“Were you human?” It had only been a few seconds since he had seated himself, his hazel eyes instantly landing on my face, brow raised to my quite random question. He tilted his bearded chin with confusion. “I – I mean Glencraig.” I stuttered lightly to his menacing features. “You were in grade school?”

“Demon.” He confirmed without hesitation, “Early 1970’s, few crossroad deals in the highlands landed me with a bottle of the amber gold.”

It’s not like I couldn’t see the answers within his mind, but what was the point of not sparking up some sort of conversation? – He couldn’t see within my mind like I could with his.

“You weren’t always the king?” I asked innocently, my lips dipping down below the rim of the glass to take a sip of Craig. 

A light, heartfelt chuckle escaped his lips, his chest jolting with the exhale of air. “No, everyone starts from the bottom, even kings.”

He shuffled himself within the seat; leather squeaking against the material of his suit jacket, his arm leaning in a relaxed fashion over the back of the chesterfield; fingers trailing the new leather.

“Tell me about you.” His orbs narrowed, his arm and hand lifting to cradle his fuzzy cheek.

My eyes popped from their sockets, changing the hands of my whisky glass, nervously tugging a piece of hair behind my ear. “Well – what do you want to know?”

He gestured toward me, licking his lips of Craig. “Anything.” He murmured out.

I bit my lips, pulling them between my teeth. “Uh – My family were assholes – my mother especially – My father abandoned me in the middle of no-where, it was snowing – I wandered for hours, freezing and numb. Then I stumbled up on the Winchesters, they – they took me in.”

Crowley’s face had suddenly fallen, droplets of amber booze running through the lines of his lips. “They saved me.” I added with a whisper.

“Your biological mother sounds a lot like mine – if she’s still alive.” 

My brow contorted, tilting my features in his direction, sipping at my drink. “Your mother?”

“1669, she sold me for three pigs, I was eight years old - and worth five pigs at least.” I couldn’t help a small giggle slip to his plain voice with such a tender subject.

“So we both have a few things in common.” I confirmed with a light nod, he agreed.

A warm smile tugged into my lips at the sudden silly thought that buzzed into my headspace. “Dude, you’re old.”

His face was priceless, disgruntled and insulted, a mixture of an exaggerated frown and surprise at my confident words. “Age is only a number.” He retorted harshly.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” I said lifting my eyes to meet his, a spark flourishing between us once more.

Silence, as though the burst of pheromone chemicals muted us to just pointlessly staring at one another like morons. It was incredibly hard to deny my heart and how much it pounded each time he set his flamed eyes up on me. The first few encounters with Crowley usually included sex – and that was all it was until his little thoughtful mistake beside the neon blue Camaro.

“Tell me you feel that too.” I whispered lowly, my fingers starting to shake and my palms slicking with sweat. It wasn’t an admission of sorts but it was a string of words that gave away my apparent feelings.

“Since the first time I laid eyes on you.” He spoke hoarsely, passing his tumbler from hand to hand, sliding it carefully onto the nearest wooden coffee table. His smouldering eyes never broke contact as his heated hands gasped mine and removed the glass from my fenced fingers. “I hate it.” He added.

I twisted my head as the clink of my glass pinged against his own. Slightly hurt and discouraged I backed down with my confidence slung over my shoulder “I’m not fond of it myself.” My tongue was ready and waiting with a layer of venom, anticipating to defend myself. 

“I hate it that– it’s a human, a puny little human woman who steals my wool – and affects me so…” My eyebrows rose with his cold statement, blinking just a few times.

“Oh no – don’t rub it in or anything – just a puny human.” I commented back, testing his guard with my own staring contest; boring holes into his beautiful bearded face.

Crowley’s cheeks flushed with what was either a mixture of anger or – embarrassment. He scooted forward just a tiny bit – a tiny bit too close to be comfortable; one of his ankles resting neatly on his knee. My breathing hitched at his close proximity.

“I cannot help what I feel for you.” He admitted, the one hand that was relaxed over the side of the couch slowly made its way into my hair, his thumb gliding over the silk strands. It was a beautiful feeling of adoration; the simple gesture that spoke a million words. My eyes closed to this simplest of contacts, a small inaudible moan slipping from my slips just loud enough for him to hear it; a purr.

The smirk that was tempting to play into his lips bloomed. “You feel it too, sweetheart.” It was less of a question and more of acknowledgement of my insane notions; more than business partners.

The hand that twirled my hair, slowly detangled itself until sure enough, his index finger was trailing my jawline, lifting gently, tapping my skin as to ask for my eyes open.

“I want to look at your eyes.” He murmured deeply.

Is it just me or is he getting closer?

My eyes burst open to his handsome face, the gruff look about him only spurred on my more the business partner’s notion. I didn’t even attempt to stop him as he leaned in, tentatively taking in my features and eyes for consent. He was less than an inch away, his hot breath ghosting over my tender lips; the pure scent of whisky and the sweet cologne he wore hung over me.

This kiss was unlike any other, as soon as his lips caressed mine an explosion rattled my brain and pumped feverish blood round my system. We fit so perfectly together, the way his bristled beard brushed against my chin and cheeks and the way his rough hand cupped my jaw as he longingly pecked.

It was my hand that stopped all of it – the hunter inside me, telling me to stop, to run and to gank his ass. What would Dean think? What would Sam say? – I could see their faces as I kissed Crowley, utter disgust and disappointment. My hand came up to his chest, softly pushing him back against the material of his tailored suit.

He broke the impassioned kiss with a heavy exhaled sigh, his eyelids fluttering as we pulled away from each other, only for our foreheads to meet, touching, savouring the feeling of his heated skin against my neutral. I ground my forehead against his, letting a tight breath escaping my lungs.

“I can’t Crowley – I’m a Winchester…”

“Not by blood – please sweetheart, I need to feel your lips on mine.” He pleaded.

It was odd to see him begging, begging not for sexual thrill but for the most unassuming action; to be kissed.

The grip he had over my cheek slowly slid at the deficiency of words from my mouth. My heart pounded in my chest, I had always been taught never to follow my heart, to listen to my head – in this case my head was screaming at me to run while my heart throbbed for the demon king.

As he started to remove his forehead from mine and his presence from my personal space, my fingers tightened about the lapels of his suit jacket; nails digging into the fabric, pulling him back to me. I shifted closer and with the same tenderness I allowed my lips to caress his own. A shallow yet deep groan rumbled from his throat at the sudden contact. The silent secret between us now exposed. A raw and new passion that flooded our systems.

Without notice or registration I had made my way into his lap, slanted so we could continue innocently kissing; his entire form leaning back into the corner of the chesterfield. Crowley’s hands gliding and embracing every part of my body. While one hand caressed my outer thigh, his other hand made painstaking work of my jawline and cheeks. My delicate fingers woven round his lapels and paisley tie.

He slowly broke the guiltless pecking, his eyes wandering my body, each curve and flaw until his eyes were lingering on my swollen lips once more, taking in their slightly puffy appearance thanks to him.

“Y’know…” He started, trailing his hot fingers up my clothed body, until he reached my jaw, brushing toward my mouth, letting a single finger dip behind the fleshy barrier.

At once his lips were dangerously close to mind; grazing my tender pink skin.

“A king is worthless without his queen.”

 

“A king is worthless without his queen, sweetheart.”

Crowley’s faintly chapped lips grazed over my own earning him a soft sigh that rolled from my tongue; he swallowed my exhalation as he captured my lips tenderly.

Crowley had never been so gentle, acting as though I was the rarest and most precious jewel, that even the slightest scratch could damage my whole being. It felt strange for him, but he didn’t deny the emotions and thoughts that rocked his physical form and intellectual mind. It had gone too far for him to turn back now, his whole body urging him to worship my form; lathered with soft, open mouthed kisses and caressing fingertips.

He nipped mildly at my bottom lip, drawing it out between his teeth only to let it go; watching it spring back all puffy and raw. His slouched position on the chesterfield straightened out a little; his large hands cupping my ribs through my clothing. I shifted my body as I was straddling him; one thigh on either side of his hips. 

This must have been the most intimate position we had ever been in, the heat between us circulating, his chest steadily physically rising and falling as he recaptured my lips and my hands snaked over the collar of his suit and into the back of his dark brown hair. “Let me worship you, sweetheart – let me show you my devotion.” He whispered.

His mind spoke wonders, such sweetness and dedication, a willing need to show his loyalty and attentiveness; an alpha beast desperately trying to win the heart of the yearning female. He didn’t need to dip into this endeavour however, he had me already.

I nodded once, pecking his lips once more; the scruff of his beard rubbing against my soft cheeks. “Show me.” I breathed down to him. 

He knew he held me as his own.

In that moment his hands skimmed underneath my plaid shirt, fingertips lifting at the sides until he pulled it upward from my body. He threw the shirt down onto the red rug situated on the floor. Crowley’s rough palms were a blessing in disguise as he trailed them up my naked torso to my bra. His breathing was hot and heavy as I watched him close in and plant wet, hot kisses to my abdomen and ribs, his lips lingering on each patch of warm flesh, relishing in the feeling underneath his lips; his beard scratching away at my soft complexion.

“Perfect.” He mumbled against my skin; vibrating the more sensitive areas of my middle. His coarse hands glided over my back, unhooking my bra with such ease and gentleness. That piece of useless material soon fell to the floor too. Crowley’s lips suddenly latched over a single nipple, flicking it with this tongue, circling, nipping as he steadied my writhing body within his lap; I was physically begging for more contact.

“All in good time, sweetheart – Let me feel you first.” His sultry words were like rich melted chocolate, my heart skipped beats inside my chest, ready to leap out and smother him in the very same devotion he was attentively showing me.

It felt like his hands were everywhere at once, gripping, grabbing and pulling clothes off here and there. My fingers desperately in need to touch him, to feel his scorching skin against my own, to feel him stretch me open and the blissful pleasure that bought.

My hands trailed up his chest, feeling each contour of his body, mapping him out within my mind. My fingers were suddenly frantically pulling the silk silver paisley tie from his neck and unbuttoning his black dress shirt while he lathered my breasts and collarbone with hot open kisses; leaving no part of my being untouched or loved. He groaned against my soft skin at the feeling of my hands splaying against his chest; pulling his dress shirt open, leaving him incredibly undefended.

I dragged my nails over his torso, earning myself a feral moan from his throat; his mind tiresome of controlling himself, his fingers slowly dipping below the waistband on my hunter’s jeans.

“Let go – Please don’t hold back, I want to feel you.” I whispered down into his ear, cradling his face against my chest; his hot breath ghosting over my breasts.

He growled heavily, nipping the sensitive skin underneath my breast, his scrunched his eyes together, his hands palming my exposed flesh on my hips.

“Please Crowley.” I begged, the ache between my legs completely intolerable. “Love me.”

His breathing hitched, another growl escaping his lips – His hands were suddenly everywhere, the clinking of his belt buckle as he swiped his dress pants open, followed by a snap of his fingers; warm air circulating around my now exposed lower half. His fingers teased my soaking folds, dipping them in and out as to test my slickness.

“Hold onto me.” He gasped, removing his fingers from me, licking at the sweet juices.  
I did as he said, wrapping my arms around his neck; pressing my naked body close. I nipped and gently kissed his rough neck as he lined himself up with my dripping entrance; his hardness prodding and poking at my thighs.

He rubbed his pre-cum smeared tip against me, tapping my clit as to urge me to lower myself.

My mouth fell open against his ear as I pushed down onto him, his incredible size never stopped to take me by surprise, his member slowly sheathing itself within my hot body; lustful moans and cries escaping my lips as he immediately grazed all the right places.

“That’s it sweetheart, take me – Good – girl – Just a little more.” He groaned into my neck, his fingertips digging into my hip bones as he settled himself deep inside me; stilling his hips.

I sat back finally, able to look at him in his haze eyes, lust drawn and hazed. Our bodies slotted together perfectly, a thin layer of sweat meshed between us. His hands soothed over my sides, running up and down as I adjusted to him. “My queen.” He murmured through thin lips, testing the waters with a flick of his hips.

I moaned outwardly to his slight movement, tightening my hands round the scruffs of hair at the back of his neck. He begun with slow movements, carefully thought-out prods and hits against my particular sweet-spot. At the sight of my undoing he sped up, cradling my back as I ached backwards, his hands holding me up as he began to pound hard but never less loving. Each movement was thought about, carefully planned to bring on an earthshattering orgasm. His hands held my torso upright, his fuzzy cheek and lips grazing my heated abdomen leaving wet and adoration filled kisses and licks in his wake travelling up to my breasts as he worked his member inside me, pulling vulgar expletives and obscenities from my lips.

My heart beat raced harder and wilder than ever, pumping blood, circulating it around my body as I gave into him finally, clenching and tightening around his length, squeezing as my orgasm rocked my body into an involuntary twitching mess. He groaned heavily, my name dripping from his lips as he came – spilling his hot seed inside me.

He stilled.

It was in-between panting for breath and resting our sweating bodies against one another that the tiniest ping sparked Crowley’s attention, a murmur that sounded similar to a heartbeat; a pop in an ocean on white static noise. His honeyed eyes trailed over my sated body as I clung to him, his fingers idly shadowing my curves and dips until he soon reached my hips. Crowley’s fingers picked up on the simple, yet insignificant pulse that lingered under my skin as he reached my abdomen; a trivial electric shudder that seemed in rhythm with my own beat.

His eyes widened to the usually undetectable fetal murmur; fingers drawn out over my stomach. He lifted his gruff features to me as he tried his best to block each and every thought that pushed into the front of his mind.

He was successful to say the least, a clear mind presented itself within my head, a sated mind just like my own.

I breathed onto his cheek, pecking him out of the state of what seemed like total shock; thankfully he reciprocated the kiss.

\--------------

“Stay with me.” He pleaded with me for the hundredth time.

Both of us were fully dressed, he was back in his clad in black suit and I was slowly slipping the worn plaid over my shoulders, taking in his hardened features as I once again turned him down – What else was I supposed to do?

“You know I can’t – Sam and Dean are expecting me to help them with his wild goose chase I’ve put them on.” I groaned, just as hurt about leaving him as he was. I didn’t want to leave now I was here – after everything.

“What if I demand that you stay?” He voiced with a rougher tone, I stared up at him, straightening out the plaid around my shoulders. My look was dubious, there was no way he’d force to me to stay – was there?

“You can’t force me, Crowley – You do that and you’ll have Sam and Dean to answer to.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, sweetheart – Wouldn’t be the first time.”

I sighed heavily, closing the gap between us; Crowley’s hand gripped my waist lightly. I tilted my head, trying desperately to dig around inside his mind. Something was eating him up from the inside – too many times had he asked me to stay or offered me rest. He hid whatever was bothering him with an old school, Harry Potter styled invisibility cloak. Totally unreadable. 

“Stay – or I come with you.” He offered, hesitating on the last few words.

This was going to drive me insane. What the hell was he hiding?

My brow contorted, lower lip nibbling at the plum flesh. “Are you serious? – Isn’t that a little bit like waving your wanted poster in front of a sheriff?”

“Imprudent, I know.”

“Imprudent? – That’s putting it lightly.” I fired back hinting with sarcasm.

I could practically hear his eyes rolling within his skull, a sudden flame of anxiety and untameable irritation circled like a flock of swarming vultures. 

“Isn’t time you rested? – The Winchesters can wait a few hours.”

I stopped everything I was doing – mostly straightening out my flannel shirt and messing with my spiked sex hair. In that brief second my hands flopped to my sides, slapping my denim clad thighs. “I can rest later when I’m tired – You’re…”

Crowley’s eyes rolled once more, stepping closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist; threading his fingers together.

“If I tell you will you refrain from bickering?” His voice was serious yet hinting a light hearted and teasing manner to his tone, I could see his lips rising like some sort of devilish sponge cake.

I gave a few small nods, savouring the feeling of his mighty arms bound around my hips. Still endlessly trying to find my answer lodged away within the dark recesses of his mind.

“I think…” He started, gently moving one hand from my hip, gently caressing it over my lower abdomen evenly. His eyes raked over my body, upwards until he met my eyes; a sparkle shone within his honey coloured orbs to the intelligence that was on the top of his tongue. “I think you may be carrying my unborn heir.”

My mind didn’t register the words that toppled from his bearded lips, I stared at his paisley tie with a blank expression, my hands sliding down from his suit where they were perched.

“D – Demons, they – they can’t reproduce – that’s impossible!” I finally exclaimed with my eyes dilated wide as though I was ready for attack. “Besides it’s been…”

“Five weeks since our first encounter – the table in the bunker, the bed the night after.” He finished my sentence.

My eyes suddenly glared up to him, not in anger but with pure fear, the fear of the unknown, the terror of a hunter carrying a demonic hybrid and the heir to hells throne.

“That’s why you wanted me to stay or you to come with me.” I accused a little too harshly; it didn’t phase our king.

“You know I am already protective of you sweetheart – but you carrying my heir? I cannot leave you unaccompanied.” His tone was just sharp enough to get the message through.

A rattling breath forced its way through my body as though I was on the verge of tears with the choice I had to make. I had to make this work, Crowley had to stay out of the picture just for a little while longer while I came up with a way to tell my brothers – which they would soon to be uncles – to the very demon who they were hunting.

I sighed heavily, ducking my head down until finally my forehead met the plains of his chest.

“You need to give me time, Crowley, you need to trust me – Neither Sam or Dean will harm…” His hand gently caressed my abdomen forcing my head to rotate upward. His eyes sparkled with rivers of gold and leafy greens. “I promise – Sam and Dean won’t harm our child.” I finished, my voice full of welling emotion and fear.

His eyes lingered on my stomach, his thumb running circles on top of my clothes, soothing whatever was developing inside.

“I will try.” He forced out crueler than it was meant to be. “But the first sign of danger to you…” He shook his heavy head, lowering it until our temples met; contrasting hot and warm temperatures with one movement.

“They better cry mercy.”


	13. White Lies

The bunker; not the nicest place in the entire world but still a place to call home, the hallways and corridors totally familiar to the mapping within my mind. I don’t think there was a single place in the entire building that I didn’t know like the back of my hand. The marbled walls always had the same coolness to them as you’d run your fingers along them in the mornings. The slate grey stone floor putting a spring into your step and the homely scent of coffee mixed with - original Old Spice that clung to the Winchester brothers clothes.

Crowley was more than uncertain about leaving me alone and to ‘fend for myself’ as he called it. Although I reassured him no harm would come to me while he was away or me away from him. He was awfully protective if not slightly possessive of me – not wanting to let me out of his sight for longer than necessary – and as for the reason why, it was still something I was trying to get my head around.

Pregnant? - Me? – are you seriously kidding me? – Not only that but by Crowley?

I mean of all the one-night stands I could have had, Crowley – Crowley, The King of Hell had to be the one to knock me up. 

Unbelievable.

I didn’t even feel any different – maybe it was some cruel or sick joke? I mean after all he was a demon, demons lie that’s their nature. I guess you could say that was what they were programmed for.

But thinking about it….

No, not with the seriousness within his mind, he had really felt a fetal heartbeat against his palm, the slight murmur and pulse underneath my skin, in exactly the same rhythm as my own body.

“Jesus…” I sighed, dropping my forehead down to my arms that were splayed out on one of the many rosewood tables in the bunkers library. Where a pleasantly warm hum came Sam’s old silver laptop to the side of me, with a marathon of Lord of The Rings: Fellowship playing from beginning. The opening sequence of the movie always bought a sense of innocence and warmth to me, a humbled beginning plagued by evil and war. It was a unique story telling that resembled my own life.

I leaned my chin in the crease of my elbow, my eyes staring upward toward the laptop screen as Gandalf and Frodo sat in the mines of Moria talking of Bilbo; Gollum succoring in the shadows. The steaming mug of decaffeinated coffee sat beside my little copper clock, the dirty metal gleaming tiny flecks of light into my irises. 

I reached out with an unhurried fashion, taking the orangery timer in my hand, my fingers skimming over the body and face; cold and lifeless to the touch. I still remember the very first day I was given my little researching pal, a gift from John to aid my concentration while working, it had stuck around ever since – now on the with the news of my own pregnancy it bought back a sense of nostalgia; an item to pass down through the genetic line. “I’ve still got you old buddy.” I commented toward my most trusted companion, tugging the clock under my neck as to initiate a cuddle with the inanimate object. I assume it looked stupid through the eyes of another but like a child with a secret diary – my little copper clock knew every tale and restricted private affair there was to know about me.

The memories that the amber timer held were precious – in quiet and solitary phases of my life, the clock had always been there – always relentlessly ticking – While researching Pagan demi gods or third generation werewolves I would always utter my darkest fears and highest hopes to the irreplaceable object. In times of need it was a source on which to practicing speeches – like when I was eighteen and I had to confess to Sam and Dean that I was a heroin user – the little copper clock always stayed true to me – never to judge my disputes or emotions behind them.

‘“I wish the ring had never come to me, I wish none of this had happened.” Frodo’s mellow yet gloomy voice echoed through the caves and tunnels. Gandalf piped up with a gruff tone; words of the wise. “So do all who live to see such times but that is not for them to decide all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us – There are other forces at work here besides that of evil.”’

Lord of the Rings always had that homely vibe to it, the long and arduous journey that resulted in happiness and rebirth.

I sighed again, subconsciously stroking my essentially none existent expectant belly. Only suddenly be shook out the daze by loud vibrating against the rosewood table; my cell-phone and ear piece. I quickly pushed away my little copper friend from the snuggling position underneath my chin and lazily stuffed the ear pieces into their hold.

 

\----------------

 

“Sam – Dean.” I perked up to the usual grumpy sound of Dean’s voice warming up his vocal cords to speak.

Dean sighed with relief at the sound of my voice – A small chesty chortle from Sam within my left ear. “It’s good to hear you again Y/N.”

“You too – both of you!” I piped up a little too excitedly.

I could imagine him and Sam, rumbling down an open road, the sun-setting while Dean hung one arm out the driver’s window and the other held the steering wheel.

“We ganked the demon, he didn’t seem to know much about Crowley though.” Sam reverberated into my ear canal. “Seemed like more of a low ranking crossroads demon.” He added.

Oh god – oh shit, think! - Shit. – Shit shit shit shit. Think of something to say girl! – My mind screamed to me.

“Uh – crossroads demon? They’re pretty high up the food chain.”

“Nah, he had nothing just a load of lousy excuses.” Dean grumbled his usual over tired, one hundred percent done tone.

My eyes widened with anxiety and a sudden lack of things to say; my mouth drying out. I glanced over to the kitchen, licking my lips with the prospect of left over pie or something of equal sweetness.

“Did he say anything in particular? – Another demons name? – Town? Anything?” I rambled, fidgeting as I stood up from my uncomfortable chair; screeching the wooden legs against the slate grey floor as I padded my way over to the kitchen counters, taking a clear glass from the cabinet above and reaching for the fridge handle.

“Yeah – he as quite sure about one thing – It’s weird, Sam and I can’t figure it out.”

I poured the semi skimmed milk into my glass, bringing it up to my lips for a cool sip. “Oh yeah? – What’s that?” I questioned.

“He said…” There was a pause; a brief moment in time in which Dean glances over to a worried, puppy dog looking Sam in the passenger seat, both sharing a mutually troubled eye contact. “He said Crowley was closer to home.”

My eyes popped and constricted to Dean’s words.

Milk spurted out of my mouth; spraying everywhere in a general three feet vicinity. I slammed the glass down on the counter – trying desperately to pull myself together. A string of voices echoed through the ear pieces; echoing the frantic roars of both defending brothers.

“Y/N?!” Both bothers panicked in unison; gasps and grunts feeding through the tiny ear pieces lodged within the shells of my ears.

My heart strung out of my chest, pounding until my own rhythm was pulsing through my lobes comparable to a huge bass drum. Fear overwhelmed me, consuming my entire being; the faint fretful breaths and yells echoed into my ears only forcing my heart to throb harder.

“Y/N?! – What happened?!” Dean’s gruff worry filled tone screeched into my right ear canal. The agony within his voice sparked my cognitive mind into somewhat rational behavior.

I stuttered; the aching, beating muscle within my chest cavity threatening to stop as I wiped my moisture covered lips with the back of my palm, trying with everything to control myself.

“I – I uh…” I coughed on the remains of the liquid tickling the back of my throat – That was until another feeling overrode me, a physical feeling of two largely coarse yet kind hands embracing my mortal presence. As though time itself had stopped these hands wound themselves around my middle, tugging me into a solid, heated form and the powerful stench of designer cologne and sulphur.

There was no denying who these limbs belonged to as he too breathed with slight panic, his mind swiftly picking up on my safety.

“I – I’m okay, Dean. I just stubbed my toe under the kitchen counter – hurt like a little fucker.” I whined with an over confident acted tone, humming and sucking in air to imitate the non-existent stinging throb.

Crowley’s single hand splayed ribcage, holding myself close to his form as he breathed hotly into the top of my head; cheek crushed against my hair and airing sighs of relief.

More relieved sighs reverberated through the tiny speakers. My imagination picturing both brothers slouching back in their seats within the leather interior Impala; Dean’s lone forefinger flipping his top lip nervously while Sam wiped his now slick palms down stonewashed jeans, pushing long strands of hair behind his ears.

“You need to be more careful, Y/N – Almost gave Sam and I a heart attack.” Dean breathed followed by a muffled sigh from Sam.

Crowley now flushed his entire form against mine, holding me as though if he were to let go then I would vanish from his sight, a light sigh escaping his lips too at the panic that must have ensued inside him.

“Sorry…” I mumbled softly which was soon light-heartedly interjected by Sam. 

“Don’t be, just don’t go breaking any bones before we get back.” The youngest brother chirped; his gorgeous smile set into his voice.

“We’ll be back tonight if the roads are clear.” Dean grumbled, obviously tired and in need of a good twelve hour sleep.

I nodded internally. Slowly but surely I molded myself into Crowley’s comforting form, resting my temple against his suit jacket only hear the beat of his heart. 

Yeah, you could say I gave in, his external heat warming me through, calming me to the very core. My own arms gradually embracing his hold; feeling the high elegantly soft cashmere and cotton suit under my fingertips as I reciprocated his clutch.

The call between both brothers and I ended shortly after that which left Crowley and I standing within the kitchen, arms tangled around each other; totally content with just listening to his heart beat through the layers of black clothing. 

“So – they suspect…” He uttered into the tops of my head, his deep voice like liquid gold to my ears.

I shook my head quickly enough to stop his speech. “No – no they don’t suspect me, they wouldn’t think I was reckless enough.” 

There was an air of nervousness floating around Crowley’s dark aura, his hands suddenly smoothing down my waist to my hips, just a few fingers daring to spread-out over my lower abdomen; sensing the tiny flicking pulse inside.

He pulled away to take in my form – Through everything Sam and Dean sometimes literally threw at Crowley, what they labelled him as, how they reacted to his kin, they forgot to mention the one little fascinating charm that our king compelled to show off. His affection toward family; in this instance the mother of his unborn child that would become a branch of his royal bloodline and lineage.

“I couldn’t help myself.” He admitted with removing his palm from my stomach and slowly bringing it up to my jawline. “I needed to know if you were both okay.”


End file.
